Opalescent
by lilac-kat
Summary: Companion story to "Ships Ahoy!" Dr. O (aka Agent Opal) and Agent Otto share their story. How they came together...and how they fell apart...and what Dr. O decided to do about it. (Special thanks to the amazing Agent0002 for being my beta-reader. RATED K FOR KIDS.)
1. (Prologue) Ellipsism

**A/N In honor of our favorite—now space-bound!—doctor, whom I still refuse to call Onomatopoeia. ;) (I mean, it doesn't add up to 60. C'mon, people.)**

(Prologue) Ellipsism

"BAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHA! _AAAAAA_ HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

SILLY! — FUNNY! — HAPPY! — HUMOR! — LAUGHTER! — RIDICULOUS! — DOWNRIGHT KNEE-SLAPPING HILARIOUSNESS!

 _AND NOTHING CAN EVER GO WRONG BECAUSE ALL IS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD! ! !_

SILLY! — FUNNY! — HAP-HapPY…? — HAPpy — hUmOR — LauGH…

Strawberry yogurt?

Strawberry _nonfat_ yogurt—and lightning—? and…something hairy…no, powdery—?

…gloop…gloooop…glooooooop…

— _aLL iS rIGHT_ —

…cold…slimy…noises…noises…noises…slimy…cold…noises…

— _rIGht_ — _wORLd_ — _wRonG—_

— _AG_ eNT _OT_ tO—

 _Gasp!_

Dr. O blinked.

 _Where…who…what…?_

 _Who…_

 _…am I?_

 _Who am I?_

 _…Opal…?_

… … …

Four blurry forms were staring at her with concern. "Well?" one of them whispered. "Did it—did it work?"

 _My name is…Agent Opal…no…_

 _No._

 _No it's not._

 _I'm a doctor, not an agent._

 _I'm Dr. O._

 _And I say_ —

" _WHAT'S_ NEXT?"

Sighs of relief. Dr. O could make more of them out now: two Investigation agents on either side, one Scientist and that Creature Guy in the middle.

 _But they're not my nurses. Where are my nurses? And where's my office? This doesn't feel like my office. I want my office, and my nurses._

Still in a daze, Dr. O wandered out a nearby door and along the walkway outside. _My nurses…my office…I have work…_

A smiley, chattery voice pierced her hazy veil of thoughts. "That's probably her way of saying thank you."

 _Thank…you…?_

— _SNAP!_

… … …

When the darkness cleared, Dr. O was facing them again.

 _Oh, it's those four agents, they're back. Oh hey, Olympia and Otis, Ocean, and Oona. Of course. Hi guys. Where did you come from?_

She looked down. In her hands were two cans of silly string.

 _Silly_ string.

Empty.

She looked up. Four faces, shock, confusion, _why_.

And silly string everywhere.

"No, _that's_ my way of saying thank you."

Her voice…

… _Oh._

 _…Oh._

 _…OH._

 _OH NO!_

All at once, everything came rushing back. Dr. O felt herself dizzying, staggering, falling falling falling. Yet still she stood in front of them. Physically, at least. Her mind was another story.

"Also, uh, thank you," she heard a distant echo of herself say. "That's also my way of saying thank you."

 _Idiot, look what you've done while you were out! Tell them you're sorry!_

Wrestling a little consciousness back into her hands, she managed to get out an apology. Of sorts. "I'll lead with that next time." More like a promise, anyway.

Their faces showed some acknowledgement.

 _Come on, Doctor, what's next?_

 _Work. That's what's next. Work. I have so much work to do. Somuchwork…always… work…. I'm a…I'm a doctor…not…a…_

Dr. O didn't remember how she got there. But when next she became aware, she found herself sitting on the Medical Bay bed. _I've never sat on my own bed before._ A stormy hairy powdery strawberry mess was her everywhere. It covered her face, ran through her hair and down her neck, dripped onto her clean lab coat, got in her nose and ears and mouth, and her eyes—

—and there was something else, too.

Something wet, something salty, something…sad.

With a little _hup_ she was on her feet again. Facing a mirror. (There was a mirror here, she thought in parentheses.) Gazing at the sorrowed clown makeup as if it were not her own. Watching the little rivulets stream, melting through the facepaint and antidote as they traveled, all stemming from the four corners of her muddy eyes.

And then, she was looking at Otto.

Dr. O drew in a sharp breath and blinked. Otto was gone.

But those were tears in the rivulets.

No. The tears were the _cause_ of the rivulets.

 _I'm…crying?_

 **And then, you remembered.**

- _CLICK_ -

… … …

 _My name is Dr. O._

 _But before all that, I am an agent. Agent Opal._

 _…Opal…escent…_

 _An ephemeral memory flits by. There are snowflakes. Two smiles. A warm hand caressing her face. A voice that wraps her in a cocoon of its light, and whispers, "You're always opalescent to me. My Opal." One little brush over her lips._

 _Gone._

 _-CLICK-_

… … …

My name is Agent Opal.

I am the Opalescent.

And this is my story.

* * *

"Nature's first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down today.

Nothing gold can stay."

— _Robert Frost_


	2. Part the First: Before

**Ellipsism:** \i-ˈlip-səzəm\ (noun) _A sadness that you'll never be able to know how history will turn out._

* * *

X X X

* * *

 **Part the First: Before**

 _ **Odd Squad, Season 1**_

* * *

X X X

* * *

"He was as fresh as is the month of May.

And she was fair as is the rose in May."

 _—Geoffrey Chaucer_


	3. (1) Nodus Tollens

**A/N So it's my birthday today... ;)**

 **Hints aside, welcome to the "Ships Ahoy" sequel! It's so fun to be back writing a longer story, I'll admit that even with my busy college life I did still miss the devoted commitment to OS fanfiction. This story has been brewing in the backburner of my mind for awhile now, ever since about a month before I finished SA, but it wasn't until Season 2 got well underway that all the details _really_ began falling into place. And of course with the recent release of the episode "Dr. O: Party Time, Excellent", I realized I had to start publishing this fanfic PRONTO, before Dr. O is irrelevant and forgotten... o.O**

 **Anyways, gotta give some credit where credit is due. This story is being beta-read by the fantabulous Agent0002, who has graciously agreed to make a semi-exception to her internet retirement for this project. So a huge thank-you goes to her for doing all that, as well as letting me use her canon from "Full Circle"!**

 **As y'all read this fanfic, _please don't hesitate to leave a review/comment!_ It's really helpful to know what people think of the story and hear the suggestions you might have, plus I just love seeing your responses :)**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own any part of _Odd Squad_ , no matter how much I wish I did.**

 **REMINDER: Yes, I have made Dr. O's name Opal in this fanfic, and will not be calling her anything else. On that note, I have a different theory as to why Olympia calls her 'Onomatopoeia' in the OddTube series, which I will explain around the 20th or so chapter of this fanfic.**

 **Okay now go read! ! !**

(1) Nodus Tollens

\ˌnōdəs ˈtä-lenz\ (noun) _The realization that the plot of your life doesn't make sense to you anymore._

* * *

Looking back, it was hard to remember anything from the time after he joined Odd Squad but before everything had happened, when she hadn't yet taken an interest in him.

Sure, there was the time Ms. O contracted that disease from _Opuntia Braccaeviridis_ poisoning, back in mid-March. And...that was about all she could think of. For the moment.

Because next in Opal's memory was the Noisemaker Outbreak a week later—

 _Nope. Nope nope nope._ Opal shook her head quickly to clear her daydreaming thoughts. _You are not at at all interested in Agent Otto, what are you thinking? Stop daydreaming now,_ "I mean it."

"Hmm?" The nurse on duty looked up from the filing drawer she was organizing. "Did you say something, Dr. O?"

Opal realized she'd thought that last part out loud. "No no, doctor, I was talking to myself," she replied stiffly, and a bit absently. Resolving to shut off her wandering thoughts, the doctor went back to filling out the medical report on her desk.

But the nurse had other ideas. "Well, now that we're talking, who did you vote for in the Captain Fun election today?"

 _Oh, for odd's sake._ Opal looked up sharply. "What are you talking about?" she said, attempting to feign nonchalance.

"Y'know, the big election that's happening today?" The nurse pushed the filing drawer shut and went over to the Medical Bay door, pointing out the window. "Otto and Oren have been campaigning for it all morning."

Curious, Opal got up from her desk and joined the nurse in peering through the window. She was just in time to watch Otto, his water suit inflated, charge at an array of bowling pins and knock them all over in a single roll. This was followed by claps and cheers from an audience of a nearby group of agents, though it was only barely audible from the sealed-off Medical Bay. "What is he doing?" Opal murmured.

"Campaigning, of course!" the nurse answered her. "He and Oren are trying to prove who's the most fun. I was thinking about voting for Oren—he flipped a bunch of burgers and gave away tons of ice cream earlier, they were _soooooo_ delicious—but after watching this, I think I'm gonna vote for Otto!" The nurse darted behind Opal and started to push open the Medical Bay door, but stopped and turned back. "I _am_ allowed to go cast my vote _real_ quick, Doctor?"

Opal considered responding with a sharp _no,_ but seeing the earnestness in her nurse's wide Indian eyes, she relented. "You're Otha, right?"

"Yes, Dr. O."

Keeping a straight face, she nodded once. "Yes, you may."

"Thanks, Dr. O!" Eagerly the nurse dashed out of the bay.

"Oh, and Otha?" Opal called.

Otha skidded back. "Yes, Dr. O?"

Opal took a deep breath. "Can you put in another vote for Otto from me?"

"Of course, Dr. O!" Otha giggled. And she was gone.

With a sigh, Opal made her way back to her desk and paperwork. _This doesn't mean anything_ , she tried to tell herself indifferently, signing her report at the bottom and dating it April 6, 2014. _It just means you think Otto would make a better Captain Fun than Oren. Whatever "Captain Fun" is, anyhow. That is absolutely all it means._

 _Would he really be better, though? He wasn't very responsible with that second Noisemaker chocolate, after all. Although he did have a good attitude about it when he let us listen to his harp music, as we all read magazines, and I leaned on his—_

 _Nopenopenope, stoppit!_

* * *

Four months later, Opal was just leaving the Medical Bay to get more red licorice from the Break Room when she saw a rather strange sight.

Obviously, this being Odd Squad, Opal was pretty well used to strange sights in headquarters all the time by now, but this was different.

Olive and Oscar were trudging up the stairs. _Together._

Opal was so surprised she almost didn't notice their state, but a moment later saw they were drenched in what looked like orange juice, and upon closer inspection seemed to be dead-tired. _What in jackalope's name happened to them?_ she wondered, moving toward the railing, all thought of licorice forgotten. _And how come Olive doesn't look angry at him?_

Then she saw who was following behind.

Opal caught her breath and felt the heat rising in her cheeks. _It's him._

Since the day Olive caught the skips, a couple weeks after the ill-fated Captain Fun election, Opal had finally admitted to herself that yes, she had an increasing interest in one Agent Otto. Ever since then, she would get ever so slightly nervous around him or at the thought of him, but kept telling herself no, nothing was ever going to come of it. _And besides,_ she had sometimes told herself, _look what happened to Oscar and Olive. They tried having feelings for each other and only ended up heartbroken, and now they can't hardly stand to be in the same room together. This kind of thing just doesn't work in Odd Squad, when we're all still kids. Better to get over my stupid feelings quickly._

Yet her "stupid feelings" had persisted. And now, it was starting to look like she couldn't even use that excuse any longer, not if the animosity between Olive and Oscar seemed to be fading.

This brought her thoughts back to Otto. He wasn't soaked like the other two were, but he did appear to have splotches of a bright green gooey _something_ covering his own uniform, face and hair. Opal again wondered what had happened to the trio. She wondered if any, especially Otto, might need medical treatment. She would have to be the one to administer it, of course, if that were the case.

 _Otto...in here? Needing my help?_

Opal bit her lip and clenched her hands. _Right now, I don't know if I could do it. I can't exactly have embarrassment distracting me from work. Maybe it would be better if he_ _didn't_ _need medical attention, after all…_

It was some time before Opal realized she was still standing there, wrapped up in the same dreamy yet slightly uncomfortable thoughts, while the trio she'd been watching had long since disappeared inside Ms. O's office. Shaking her head rapidly to dispel her mind's imagination, she clenched her empty licorice jar tighter with resolve and propelled herself towards the stairs. Thus she didn't notice a group of agents in wetsuits led by Oren, Olaf, and Octavia gather together and, armed with gadgets and mops aplenty, head down a side hallway toward the elevator.

Later, the jar fully replenished with red licorice (and not that infernal Twizzlers kind this time, thank goodness), Opal was just leaving the Break Room and heading back towards the stairs, when—

"Oh hey, Dr. O!"

Opal froze and looked up in front of her.

 _Just my luck they're bringing_ _him_ _down the stairs, right when_ _I_ _need to go_ _up_ _the stairs,_ she thought in annoyance, and just enough embarrassment that she almost sidestepped the trio in favor of the other staircase. Just in time, however, Opal remembered her curiosity. "What _happened_ to you three?" she demanded curtly, as was her normal.

It was the most imperceptible of movements, but Opal caught it all the same. Olive's and Oscar's eyes flitted in each others' directions before immediately flitting back. "It's kind of a long story," they both said in unison, a tad too swiftly.

"Basically there was a huge, life-threatening incident down in the boiler rooms," Otto explained, "but we escaped and got it under control, so everything's good!"

"So now we're heading to the showers," Olive put in, looking down at herself with her lip curled slightly in disgust. "Before this orange juice permanently sticks my suit to my skin."

Opal nodded once. "I see," was all she said, but her mind was racing. _So Otto doesn't know about whatever's passed between his partner and my former partner—whatever that is, anyway. That sort of explains why he's covered in a different mess from the other two. I'll have to ask Oscar about it later._ "As a doctor, I think that's a good idea," she agreed, avoiding eye contact with Otto. "You three are quite a picture, looking like this."

"Picture…" A lightbulb seemed to flick on in Oscar's mind. "Oh my gosh, we oughta take a picture, heh! Great idea, Dr. O!" And with that he whipped out a slightly sticky Polaroid camera from his lab coat pocket and held it at arm's length above them.

Olive gaped. " _How_ did that survive the flood if your own badge phone didn't?!"

 _Flood? Phone? What?_

"Psh, are you kidding?" Oscar looked at her sideways as if he'd expected her to know this one. "You've been out of the Nineties too long. Modern phones will break if you so much as snap them in half, but everyone knows that older, clunkier technology is _indestructible!_ "

Behind the camera, Opal shook her head at his logic. "I don't think that's how technology works, Oscar." She noticed Olive had likewise rolled her eyes, but...for the first time in a long time, Opal didn't detect any anger or annoyance in the gesture.

Meanwhile, Otto's eyes had widened. "You're from the…?"

"Say _CHEESE!_ "

His question forgotten, Otto scrambled to lean in and pose on one side of Oscar, while Olive did the same on the other side. Oscar put on his best duckface, and—CLICK!—what would become the infamous Boiler Room Incident Selfie was born.

Opal had to suppress a laugh. The image in front of her was indeed hilarious, especially the way Oscar's duckface made his glasses look even more skewed, and the way Olive's serious expression failed to hide her unprofessionally tangled hair and bruised forehead. Otto's crazy flailing pose was funny, too, but there was something rather endearing about it that made him all the more attractive…

 _Nonono, shut up!_ Hoping the blush creeping up her neck and cheeks was just in her imagination, Opal hurriedly said, "Didn't you three say you had somewhere to be?"

"Oh yeah!" Otto broke out of the tableau and darted toward the brick hallway between the Break Room and the South Control Room. "Last one to the showers is a rotten Blobisite!"

"Hey, no fair!" Olive laughed, golden eyes sparkling. "Wait up!"

Opal watched her take off in hot pursuit of her partner. "Haven't seen her that happy in years," she noted to Oscar, who was busying himself extracting the printed Polaroid photo from his camera. "Let alone around you."

Oscar paused, looked up and smiled. "Things have changed, Opal," he murmured blissfully, soft chocolate eyes shining. "Things have changed."

As he too ran off after his companions, Opal watched them go. _I don't believe it,_ she thought, allowing herself a small chuckle. _If I'm not mistaken, my OTP may just be getting back together again. Maybe officially this time._

 _Speaking of OTPs…_

 _No, it isn't possible. He didn't even look at you just now, not for that whole time._

 _But still…maybe this means you have a chance, after all…_

Opal sighed. Her stupid imagination refused to let up.


	4. (2) Jouska

(2) Jouska

\ˈyō-skə\ (noun) _A hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head._

* * *

Sometimes, when Opal needed to be alone to think, she liked to take a brisk walk through headquarters and act like she was busy. In reality, of course, she just preferred that no one talk to her for a little while, so she could sort through her thoughts in peace.

Halfway through her route was the Odd Squad Warehouse downstairs. Often she would stop to rest in the small park, tucked away near the back and only accessible through an older, barely used hallway. It was quiet, peaceful, and almost always undisturbed; a tiny little eye in the hurricane of work. Today, Opal sat down on the bench, absently put her left hand around the adjoining lamppost, and set to work defragging her brain.

 _Alright, so today. Today is August 19, 2014. It's a Tuesday. Two weeks before yesterday, a Blobisite was found in one of our main pipes and not-so-safely extracted, and is now contained in a special wing of the Blob Containment Facility. The orange triangle boiler was destroyed by the pressure from an orange juice backup, and a replacement furnace powered by carrots is set to be installed soon. Lesser known, Oscar reconciled thirteen years' worth of secrets with his former partner, and now he and Olive are secretly together. At least, it's a secret from Otto and Ms. O._

 _Otto…_

 _Nope, not yet, I'm getting there. That was two weeks ago. A week before yesterday, Agent Todd—now Odd Todd—made his first public appearance in over two years since he disappeared on May 25, 2012._ Opal shuddered at the memories of a drugged pie among countless hitting her in the face before losing consciousness, and blearily attempting to treat dozens of affected agents immediately after waking up hours later. That was one day she wouldn't want to repeat. _But since his return last week, there's been nothing. A report the day after concerning a sighting of him with Shapeshifter and Father Time, and the discovery of that note last Friday—okay fine, that note left Ms. O pretty shaken, so I suppose it was a big enough deal._

(The note in question was a folded piece of green paper found wedged between a pipe and the ceiling in the lowest part of headquarters, dated August 4. It read, "I'm BAaAAaAAAcK! ! ! aND i LefT A PresENt! HOpE hE grOWS On yOu!" ~T)

 _But beyond that...nothing new has happened. He hasn't committed any odd crimes, or broken into HQ again, or made any sort of appearance at all. It doesn't make sense. Why make a big deal about coming back, only to disappear again? I mean, if his only goal was to frighten us all, then it sure worked, but that doesn't sound like him. Then again, I didn't know him very well. Maybe I should ask Olive what she thinks, she knew him better than anyone else._

 _Moving on, my work is doing fine. Couple cases of lucky pox, honking cough, otherwise the usual. No new epidemics or outbreaks, nothing to worry about there._

 _Cousin Libby is doing okay, thank heaven. After the last blood transplant her leukemia is finally back in remission, and she'll get to leave the hospital just in time to start school. And what a relief, I remember how much she always hated missing school. If all works out, I'll be able to go visit her in Cincinnati for the American Thanksgiving. I'll have to remember to ask Ms. O for a few days off in November._

 _What else? Um, as of last paycheck I've saved almost half of the money I need to buy that gorgeous teal bike. Maybe if I'm lucky, I can get it as a gift to myself for Christmas._

 _Coming up in a couple weeks will be the O Games, so that'll be fun to watch. Unless I'm competing, of course, but that isn't likely to happen._

 _Also I finally went to see_ _Guardians of the Galaxy_ _the other day. Decent superhero movie, but a little too silly for my tastes. And that's, uh, basically it._

 _So that just leaves Otto._

Opal sighed. _Why did I even have to fall for him in the first place?_ she asked herself what had now become a routine question, tracing the dark metal grooves on the lamppost. _It's way too big of a complication. Besides, he's so fun and goofy and carefree, and I'm so…_ _not_ _. I keep telling myself to move on because it'll never work out, he's not going to be interested in someone like me, yet still I can't move on. Why can't I move on? Like I'm supposed to?_

 _Because you haven't told him yet._

The thought came out of nowhere. _Telling him? What? No! Why would I do that? It'd be too embarrassing, he won't understand, he's not—_

 _You can't know if you don't try._

 _But I—_

Her thoughts were interrupted by a distant shout within the Warehouse. "OSCAR!"

Curious, Opal stood up. _That sounds like it came from the Dinosaur Room!_ "Oh, what is he up to _now?_ " she wondered aloud in exasperation, setting off at a brisk jog through the aisles of boxes to make sure everything was alright. Though Oscar was no longer her partner as of August 2001, Opal sometimes still felt he was somewhat her responsibility.

She rounded a corner, and was just in time to catch sight of Olive pulling a dazed Odd Squad recruit and a bruised, tattered Oscar out of the angry-sounding Dinosaur Room with a commanding "Stay! Back! _NO!_ "

Opal's jaw dropped. _Did they just lead an agent-in-training into one of the most dangerous rooms in headquarters?_ Shocked and disappointed, Opal marched right up to Olive and exclaimed, "You led an agent-in-training into the Dinosaur Room?!"

Three voices— _three?_ —fired back with something along the lines of "Nononono, Dr. O, you don't understand—"

"Of course I understand!" Opal cut them off, whirling on Oscar, "I'm a doct—"

 _Crumpets._

 _Whoops, that's Olive's curse phrase, but still._

 _How did I not see him here moments earlier?_

 _Worse, how could I not think he would obviously be here working with Olive?_

Otto, standing next to Oscar, either didn't notice her slight shift in emotion or didn't care, and instead launched into an excuse. "Uh, w—he's so _fast!_ I mean, as soon as you look away, he disappears!"

Feeling a nerve rush coming on, Opal used that as an excuse to look away, instead focusing her attention on the new recr—

 _Where'd he go?_

Out of the corner of her eye, she noted Olive follow her gaze and do a double take. Otto's voice behind her went on, "He's gone, isn't he?"

"Yep," Olive groaned.

 _Because I distracted them,_ Opal finished in her head, _not that I knew better._ She couldn't look at Otto now, but luckily Olive spoke to her first. "Dr. O, we need your help!"

 _Or maybe not so luckily. I can't work in a group with Otto, what if I make a fool of myself? Uhh, uhh, what's an excuse? Um…_ "Olive, I'm a doctor, not a babysitter," she began—before remembering her toddler neighbor and realizing that actually wasn't completely true. "But," she amended quickly, "I do do a little babysitting every once in awhile…" Wrong move. Now Olive was looking at her a little weird— _she's right, most agents don't need to babysit for a living if they have a job here_ —and if Olive was confused, Otto probably was too. Flustered, Opal stammered weakly in explanation, "...s-saving up for a bike." _Ugh, they didn't need to know that, either! Maybe I should just…_ After a moment's pause, Opal gave in. "So yes, I will help you."

Olive nodded once in thanks, then broke into a run towards the Warehouse exit. Opal immediately followed, trying to put some distance between herself and the pounding footsteps of Otto behind her.

Meanwhile, any thought of telling him the truth was, for the time being, snuffed out.

* * *

All through the ensuing wild goose chase around headquarters, Opal tried her best to keep Olive or Oscar between herself and Otto. At the door to the Princess Room, she proudly came up with the idea to use three numbers to add up to eleven, but grew flustered when Oscar credited her idea to being a doctor ( _That's not true, he's generalizing way too much_ ) and blurted out all of her training, right in front of Otto ( _Why did I do that all at once? Now he'll think I'm bragging!_ ). Once they unlocked the door and made it inside, however, Opal got an unexpected surprise upon learning that Otto somehow didn't know about the dangers of the Princess Room, and laughed out loud when Olive tried to warn him.

Forgetting her self-consciousness, Opal shot him a disbelieving, meaningful look. _What do you think you're doing? Be_ _quiet_ _, for odd's sake!_

Naturally it made no difference. The robot princess themselves wandered out and began to circle the unguarded Ori, firing their rainbow lasers threateningly and proving how dangerous they were.

"You two go get him," Olive ordered, nodding at Otto and Oscar. She locked eyes with Opal and smiled grimly. "We'll cover."

"How?" asked Otto.

Opal returned the glint of determination. _Odd knows with Otto. But at least Olive has her trust in me. And I trust her._

"Shields up!"

In sync the two girls whipped out their bronze shields and held them out in ready position.

"FOR ODD SQUAD! ! !"

They charged.

In less than a minute it was over. While Otto and Oscar grabbed Ori and pulled him to safety, Opal bravely stood her ground back-to-back with her fellow seasoned coworker and fended off the lasers for the boys. If more for herself than anything, she proved she was willing to go further and cover for Olive to run back through the door—but of course Olive was just as selfless, if not moreso. _Guess a few life-or-death scares will do that to you._

 _And caring for loved ones._

* * *

Later, back in the safety of headquarters, following a near scare with Ms. O and yet another exasperating chase after that recruit, ending in his disappearance, Opal found herself wandering back to her little park. It was only with considerable effort she was able to force her shoes to turn right back around and march themselves up to her Medical Bay.

Unfortunately, her shoes took her instructions a bit too literally.

Watching the disembodied shoes march off on their own, Opal sighed and leaned against a wall. _I've done enough thinking and sorting things out for the day. Today can go on next week's list of thoughts to process._

 _But at least I know what to start the agenda with._

 _Because there's a few things I can probably learn from Olive…._

* * *

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Opal, her thoughtless mention of saving up for a bike had lodged itself in Otto's mind. And though he would certainly forget from time to time, it wasn't about to go away.

 **A/N Brief reference to my in-progress fanfic "O is for One of a Kind" up there, where I mention that Ori disappears after the second chase. I have made it part of my "Ships Ahoy" (and therefore also "Opalescent") canon, so go check it out if you haven't yet!**


	5. (3) Adronitis

**A/N So I'm back at college now, which means things are gonna get crazy busy, which means I'll reach a point soon where I won't be able to write this for awhile. I should be able to get the first half published, though. Look out for new chapters on the 10th, 20th, or 30th of any month, because I will try to update on those days (though not every single one, depending on how busy I am or how busy my beta-reader Agent0002 is).**

 **Anyhow, this chapter's aaaaaaall Otto's POV. Let's see what he has to say!**

(3) Adronitis

\ˌa-drə-'nī-təs\ (noun) _Frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone._

* * *

Otto's mind was in a turmoil.

That look she had given him.

The look on her face as she was zapped out of the O Games arena and returned to headquarters.

A look that could not be mistaken for anything other than what it was.

Two days since he won the O Games, and still the way she looked at him had Otto racking his brain, trying to figure out what signs he could've missed and how. _I never even really met her until the day Ms. O got sprayed by that plant and we had to go get all that antidote stuff. Could she have liked me then? No, it can't be. Maybe when we all started making odd noises? She_ _did_ _do that awkward thing where she put her head on my shoulder and jerked away when I noticed. But then why did she get so mad at me when I asked her for a spare gadget? Or could it have started when Olive got the skips and she kept introducing herself to me? But then why didn't I see her vote for me at the Captain Fun elections just before that? And then how could she have come to like me before two weeks ago, if she was so frustrated at me that day when we chased Ori everywhere? I mean, of everything that happened before then…_

Otto shook his head and rubbed his temples, trying to clear his mind. This was the fourth time today he'd had this exact cycle of thoughts, and still it was getting him nowhere. Try as he might, he couldn't focus on his desk work. Aside from name and date, the case report sheet still lay blank in front of him.

 _Soundcheck. Of course. Try listening to Soundcheck, that'll take your mind off things._

But as he reached into his pocket and pulled out an empty hand, and felt for the headphones around his neck that weren't there, Otto realized he'd left his OddPod at home that day. _Drat. Okay, well maybe the radio. Surely they'll have a Soundcheck song playing in a Top 40 hit or something._ Pulling up the K-ODD website, he clicked on the internet radio broadcast and waited for it to load.

" _...got it bad, and I got it good / Doctor, Doctor, gimme the news I've got a / Bad case of lovin' you_ —"

"Are you serious?!" he snapped at the computer, immediately closing out of the browser window before putting his head in his hands and letting out a groan.

"Something wrong, partner?"

Otto brought his hands down to find Olive watching him from her own desk with concern in her eyes, pen in hand forgotten for the moment. "Nothing," he muttered, wishing for once his partner wasn't always so close by.

She raised her eyebrows, unconvinced.

"I just can't focus on my work today," he admitted, though not mentioning why. "And I don't like that song."

"I thought you liked all kinds of music?"

"Yeah, well, not that one!" he snarled, slamming his palm against the desk. Immediately regretting the outburst, he rubbed his eyes. "Sorry, didn't mean to shout."

"S'okay." Olive blinked a few times, and a small smile crept up onto her face. "Tell you what. Let me fill out the case report for you, and you go take a walk around headquarters to clear your mind of—er, whatever's bothering you. Maybe stop in the Cookie Room or the Pillow Fort Room along the way?"

Otto exhaled with relief. _A walk around headquarters. Why didn't I think of that?_ "Doesn't sound like a bad idea," he agreed, getting up from his chair to hand her the report. "Thanks, partner. Be back soon!"

Sure enough, as he summoned all his effort to _not_ glance up at the Medical Bay, and set off through the Hall of Doors, his thoughts finally wandered away from the tormenting cycle into—well, more of the same. But this time they were more like: _When am I going to talk to her about this? Tell her that I like her too? I do, right? I mean, she was my competition, yet I helped her win the Centigurp challenge even before she gave me that—that look...those muddy brown doe eyes...there's no way I don't…_

 _Wait a minute. We're kids. Is this even allowed at Odd Squad?_

 _No, probably not. So that means I can't tell her anything._

 _So it doesn't exist?_

 _Then why am I so nervous around her now…?_

Later, after coming back from his walk with more questions and no answers (and more than a few cookies from the Cookie Room), Otto would be relieved when Ms. O called them on a new case. And for a little while at least, he could forget about Dr. O and enjoy the odd but fun confetti blasts out of a befuddled man's milk carton.

Meanwhile, he knew nothing whatsoever of what an intrigued Olive, busy with her partner's unfinished case report, was quickly piecing together with what she'd already known of Dr. O's crush on him:

 _Maybe he really likes her back?_

* * *

Though a rookie agent with less than ten months' experience under his belt, it was sometimes nice to know his seasoned veteran partner could sometimes be just as bewildered as he was.

One of these times was the September day Ms. O and Oscar switched bodies.

Even if Otto had no clue that the actual source of Olive's confusion was her special affection for the Lab Director, Otto felt it all too easy to hesitate after being told to "meet me outside my office" by someone whom his eyes, ears, and even nose told him was Oscar. It just so happened Olive seemed to think the same.

"Question," Otto found himself double-checking as he and his partner whirled back around again. " _Your_ office, or _Ms. O's_ office?"

The kid in Oscar's body narrowed Oscar's eyes, making Otto cower in a way only one kid could do. "I mean _my_ office because _I'M MS. O!_ "

But Otto had forgotten one thing: lately, there was someone else who could have an even more impactful effect on him…

"You're Ms. O?"

Otto's heart leapt into his throat.

Using her bizarre ability to pop into rooms from out of nowhere (something literally everyone except he and Olive could do, it seemed), Dr. O had happened to place herself in the same room as Otto for the first time since the O Games. Granted, that had been only three weeks ago, but still.

Vaguely he heard Olive scramble to fabricate some sort of plausible explanation, but for the most part Otto's mind looked like this:

. . .Oishere( _Here?-?-?_ ) . ( _do?-?-?_ )Uhh...uhh...uhh...ohGodohGodohGodaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAHHHIDIDN'TUSEDTOBELIKETHISAROUNDHER( _what did I used to be like again?-?-?_ )WHATWOULDOLIVEDOOOoooooo…

Speak of the devil, at that moment an expectant look from his partner pierced his overdriving mind. Stunned and still stuck in a mental rush, Otto rewound the part of his subconscious that had been paying attention to his surroundings and listened for what he was supposed to say.

 _Game. She's Otto. Right._

 _So I say..._

"I—I-I-I'm Olive!" he stammered, just in time for Olive to complete the cover story with Oscar as Ms. O (or rather, Ms. O as Oscar as Ms. O). It took another moment, though, before Otto realized his hands had balled up into fists and were rapidly quivering close to his chest. With some effort he steadied them, as the irony in his comedian brain pointed out how not unlike Oscar the gesture was.

With that realization came another: the more he watched Dr. O, the more he noticed how equally surprised and embarrassed _she_ was.

Come to think of it, it was pretty obvious. Hadn't her face been a bit less pale when she'd first popped into the lab? And hadn't her shoulders been a bit less stiff—no, stiff wasn't the right word, she was always stiff, this looked more like _defensive_ —than normal? And he was pretty sure her face hadn't been so obviously turned away from his direction when she'd first opened her mouth with the words, "You're Ms. O?"

"Can you call me...Dr. Pickle?" she asked tersely, showing no change in her otherwise blank expression.

 _Is Dr. O trying to join our game? She really wants to do that?_

"Yes!" Olive gulped out.

The doctor paused a moment, her doe eyes flicking in Otto's direction for oh-so-brief a second, then she nodded. "Thank you." And with that came her signature exit line: " _What's_ next?"

Otto felt himself exhale. He hadn't even known he was holding his breath. All he knew was that, in spite of learning something new about her regarding pickles, that whole exchange had been _hecka_ awkward in more ways than one; and though it was obvious why, what he didn't understand was _how._

 _I didn't used to act like this around her. Everything was fine for my first eight months on the squad, she was just another agent, a coworker to get along with._

So what did it mean for Otto if the knowledge of her crush on him could take all that normalcy away?

* * *

In spite of having driven Agent Olsen's car all the way up to the K-ODD radio station in the first place, Olive agreed with Otto about it being best to take the tubes back to headquarters instead, for the sake of time. Popping out of their red pods into the Tube Lobby, Otto barely had time to catch his breath before his partner was already marching out the doors. "Olive, wait up!" he called, running after her. "Where exactly are we going?"

"To the Medical Bay," she answered curtly, no doubt still beating herself up about being the real Countdown Crook. "Dr. O's the only one who'll know how to cure me."

Otto almost broke stride. "Dr. O?" he repeated dumbly, remembering all too well what had happened the last time he found himself in the same room with the doctor. _What if I get nervous again and can't say anything? It was bad enough on the day Oscar and Ms. O switched bodies, what if today's worse? I can't, not when my partner's the one I should be worrying about…_

Caught up in his worrying, before he knew it Olive had marched him all the way up the stairs and right to the door of the Medical Bay. And, to his horror, she was now going inside. Otto gulped and straightened his tie. _My partner is the only one I should be worrying about,_ he reminded himself, following her. _It's only for a few minutes. And it's not like I haven't talked to the doctor plenty of times before the whole O Games thing happened. I can do this._

"Dr. O?" Olive announced. "I need you to confirm an odd illne— _what_ are you doing?"

The partners stared at the doctor in question, who stood in the corner of the room by a large metal vat full of pink goo and held a small syringe filled with white liquid parallel to her bare arm. At Olive's worried question she glanced up sharply and pulled down her lab coat sleeve, and at the sight of Otto she yelped and stuck the syringe needlepoint-first through her blonde bun.

Otto nearly swallowed his own tongue in surprise. _Couldn't that have pricked her neck or something?_

"U-um..." Dr. O stammered, in a way Otto wasn't used to hearing from her. "I was just...checking to make sure that—that the medicine in my syringe was the same color as my arm! I'm a doctor, everything's fine!" She tried to manage an assured smile, but her attempt awkwardly petered out into a cringe as she grasped for a syringe that no longer resided in her hand.

Otto cocked his head. "If it's supposed to be the same color as your arm, then why is the medicine white?"

Suddenly a Security agent who was passing by on the walkway outside groaned. "Oh my odd, Otto," she called out, white-gold hoop earrings and brunette curls bouncing as she shook her head. "You can't just ask doctors why their medicine is white!"

Otto felt his cheeks flush. "But O'Gretchen, I was just—!" he began, stopping himself when he realized she'd walked away without listening. "Never mind," he said, turning back to the other two girls while trying to ignore his reddened face. "Is now a bad time, Doctor?"

For a moment Dr. O didn't say anything, and it seemed she was taking the moment to compose herself. "I'm a doctor, not a timekeeper," she finally said, her voice back to its usual terseness. "But no, now isn't a bad time at all. Now what can I do for you?"

In reply, Olive walked over to the sickbed and hopped up on it. "We think I might be the Countdown Crook who's stopping everyone from counting down. I need you to confirm this and give me a cure, and _fast_."

Dr. O nodded brusquely. "Very well. One moment please." Avoiding eye contact with Otto ( _Is she avoiding me on purpose?_ ), she opened a drawer in one of her filing cabinets and rummaged around for a bit, eventually pulling out a rubber hammer, an eyedropper, and a curlicue pink thermometer. Setting the latter two items on the edge of the bed, Dr. O took the rubber hammer and rapped on Olive's forehead with it. Otto watched wide-eyed as Olive's ears immediately flapped back and forth violently for a second before stilling again. His eyes grew even wider when "La Bamba" started playing all around them after Dr. O put a few drops of some sort of pinkish gooey substance similar to that of the metal vat in Olive's eyes. When the music (and Otto's urge to dance) finally faded, she stuck the thermometer in Olive's mouth for about a minute, then pulled it out to examine the reading.

Otto, noticing his partner's worried look, cleared his throat. "Well? What do you think, Dr. O?"

For the first time since he'd entered the room, she looked directly at him. "You want the good news or bad news?" she said flatly.

 _She must be well into her doctor mode right now,_ Otto thought, not unlike what Olive found herself noticing about Oscar from crisis to crisis. "Bad news," he said, mustering up some confidence for Olive's sake.

"The bad news is there's no good news."

Oops, there went his confidence. " _WHAT?!_ "

"Olive is definitely the Countdown Crook," she explained, once again averting her gaze from Otto to Olive.

"But is there a cure?" Olive went on pointedly, her voice rising in what Otto hoped wasn't panic.

Dr. O nodded. "Of course." Turning around, she moved back towards the metal vat and gestured at it, still not quite meeting Otto's ever-wider eyes. "All you need to do is sit in this pink goo for two weeks."

Olive's face was frozen in a mask of poorly-concealed dread, and Otto felt a flickering twinge of doubt. The kind you only get when you discover something about someone you like, the kind that makes you think, _Is this really the kid I decided to fall for?_ Was there really no other alternative cure that might be less disgusting or, more importantly, less time-consuming?

As if to voice his thoughts, a purple sequin-bedazzled ball of anxiety in the form of Ms. O barreled into the Medical Bay and yelled, "We don't have two weeks! I have to be onstage _tonight!_ "

But unlike Olive and Otto, who flinched and shirked from their boss's raised voice, Dr. O wasn't one to be intimidated. "I'm a _doctor,_ Ms. O, not a _party-planner!_ " she retorted, slamming her hand on the sick bed to emphasize her point. As her mud-brown doe eyes darted a glance in Otto's direction, however, she looked away and cleared her throat uncomfortably, intimidated after all.

 _It's just like the Skips all over again,_ Otto was thinking, _except now it's twice as much time that we can't afford to spare._ He risked a glance at the doctor. _And I didn't know then what I know about her now. What'll the next two weeks be like? I don't even want to try and count the ways I might embarrass myself, it's a list I'd never be able to finish mak—_

 _Wait._

 _Finish._

 _Count the ways._

 _Count...down?_

 _That's it!_

"Wait, I have an idea!" he exclaimed. "Olive is a Countdown Crook because she's counting _down_ her resolutions, right?"

"Right," the three girls said in unison, nodding at him.

Otto fought the urge to stutter as he found himself looking directly at Dr. O to say the next part. "So if she _finishes_ her resolutions, then—"

"Then she won't be obsessed with counting down and everyone can count down again!" Dr. O finished, pointing at him approvingly to show she'd caught on.

Otto felt a grin creep across his face as he returned the finger point. "Right," he finished, proud of himself.

 _Maybe I don't always have to embarrass myself in front of her. Is it really possible that I can do things right when she's around? That I can just…be myself?_

Suddenly he was even more happy he'd gotten her that bike for Christmas last week.


	6. (4) Sonder

**A/N As promised, here's the August 30th installment! A huge thank-you goes out to the people who've favorited or reviewed this story so far, your feedback means so much to me and please keep it coming if you can!**

 **Also, just sayin', the second sentence of the second paragraph down there is probably my favorite out of the entire story so far ^_^**

(4) Sonder

\ˈsän-dər\ (noun) _The realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own._

* * *

Sometime in October, Opal got a call from Ms. O about a medical condition with Oksana.

Literally, one of the loudest calls from the boss she'd ever gotten. " _DR. O! IN THE BREAK ROOM! NOW! ! !_ " came the shout, so loud it reverberated around headquarters for another two weeks before finding its way out to fly south for the winter. Unable to hold back a yelp, Opal dropped her stethoscope and nearly knocked her teddy bear patient off the bed. "Apologies, Mx. Bear!" she said quickly, stabling their tottering form with one hand and scooping up her stethoscope to deposit it back around her neck with the other, before dashing out to the stairs. "Did someone call for a doctor?" she said moments later as she entered the Break Room, back to her normal professional composure.

She was met by Ms. O, standing in front of the infinite table, with Oksana seated in one of the chairs next to her. "Oh, there's a problem, alright," the boss said. "Tell her, Oksana."

The Kitchen Head locked eyes with Opal in that disconcerting way she did with everybody. "My hands are making this noise." She held them up, and sure enough a loud "AAAAAIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!" sounded.

Opal blinked once, but otherwise didn't react. "Ah yes, I've seen this before. Oksana, how many meals did you make this morning?"

"One thousand."

"Were they all the same?"

"No," Oksana answered, narrowing her eyes. "You agents don't like it when your breakfast is the same as the agent's next to you. Makes my job difficult."

Opal ignored the comment. "How long have you been making different meals for all one thousand agents?"

"Since you agents demanded variety several years back."

"I see. Do you think you could make me a grilled reuben sandwich?"

Before Oksana could open her mouth the hands _aaaaaiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeed_ again, but this time of their own accord. Ms. O jumped in surprise.

"That's what I thought." She nodded a few times. "Oksana, your body is exhibiting a common stress reaction known as _corporis quiritatus_ , in which the part of your body experiencing the most stress literally screams for help and refuses to do whatever caused it to feel so stressed in the first place."

Ms. O didn't look too happy about that. "But I need Oksana to be able to work!" she insisted. "Is there a cure, Dr. O?"

"Oh yes. There's an easy part and a difficult part, however. The easy part is calming her hands, which can be done simply by painting their entire surface with a coat of mockingbird egg whites, a coat of lime juice cordial, a coat of pureed rutabagas, a coat of liquefied Tiggle breath, and a coat of unicorn tears, afterwards wiping off the coatings with a special towelette made of Saffron Slimer fronds. Should only take about six and a half hours."

Oksana stared in disbelief and wrinkled her nose. "What's the hard part?"

"Changing your meal routine. You'll have to go back to preparing the same meal for every agent."

"Change my _meal routine?_ " Oksana got up from her chair so fast it would've fallen over had it not been screwed to the floor. "That's impossible!"

"Whoa there, no it's not," Ms. O jumped in, easing the Kitchen Head back down into her seat. "You don't have to _completely_ change your meal routine, do you? Why not just ask agents to vote for three different meals, and only prepare the one with the most votes? That way you're still having agents tell you what they want, but it's less stressful on you."

Oksana regarded the boss dubiously. "Are you saying you know how to do my job better than I do?"

Ms. O didn't bat an eye, although Opal could tell she was struggling to hold her ground under such scrutiny. "No, I'm asking you why that wouldn't work."

"It would," Oksana said bluntly, surprising both of them. "Very well. I'll change my routine tomorrow. But today's too early."

"And I'll need time to apply the coatings," Opal added. "It'll be close to dinnertime by the time I'm done."

"Which means that's two thousand meals you can't make..." Ms. O trailed off thoughtfully, eventually snapping her fingers. "No problem, I know just what to do!" With that she dashed out of the break room and over toward the lab. "OSCAAAR! I need you to call Delivery Debbie's for me…!"

Not too long after, Opal had brought Oksana up to perch on her Medical Bay sick bed (after assuring Mx. Bear that yes, they were perfectly fine, and dismissing them down the chute), had arranged all the necessary ingredients in front of her (except for the pureed rutabagas and Saffron Slimer towelettes, for which she sent out her head nurse Odell to get more), and had begun daintily painting the mockingbird egg whites onto Oksana's hands with a tiny blue paintbrush. About thirty-five minutes in, the two girls still hadn't spoken a word between themselves. Normally Opal wouldn't have minded this, but she'd noticed Oksana was eyeing her with something like...no, it wasn't just boredom, there was something else there, too…but her doctor instincts weren't telling her anything about what it could be. Logically she knew the correct thing to do in a situation like this was small talk followed by subtle prodding—trouble was, she wasn't sure what sort of small talk would interest someone like Oksana, of all agents.

 _I mean, she's stiff and serious, just like me, so it shouldn't be that hard. I dunno, what's something I like to read…? Maybe the news? She seems like a type who'd enjoy the news. Or maybe popular music? She does play and remix a lot of it. Maybe news about music, or music about news? Maybe…_

"Did you read that TBD article about Jessie J's new album?" she said, way too abruptly.

Oksana's lip curled a little bit, though it didn't seem to be directed at the doctor's social blunder. "I don't read TBD Magazine anymore. Not since they stopped being an actual magazine."

"I don't blame you," Opal agreed, a little less tense now that they were talking. "I liked the print version better, too. It just hasn't been the same since they moved to online-only and got rid of most of their writers. And though I'm a doctor and not a social psychologist, it seems to me the website and app are more popular now with other kids like us."

"Whatever," Oksana muttered. "They don't understand quality journalism. Neither does whoever bought the magazine and ruined it last January."

Opal made a face. She, too, didn't trust businesspeople who bought companies and turned them upside down like that Sawyer Shaw. That's why she was a doctor. "It's not _all_ ruined, though," she said after a few minutes. "Riley Winter's still there. It was actually Riley who wrote the Jessie J article. I thought it was decent. Way too short, and a little simple, but thought-provoking. Like how Riley's articles used to be."

She was rewarded with a grunt. "I'd thought Riley left, too. Oh well. Might check out the article sometime."

Another silence fell. After a few minutes Opal finished the egg white coating and got up to wash her paintbrush, while leaving the areas on Oksana's hands that were still wet to dry. Then she came back and set to work on the lime juice cordial, trying to think of another piece of small talk that could get her closer to figuring out what that look in Oksana's eyes was supposed to be.

And then two gossiping off-duty Tube Operator girls happened to walk by the Medical Bay.

"Did you _hear_ about how Agent Otto shut off the security system by himself yesterday?" O'Donnell gushed.

"Oh, I _know!_ " came O'Higginz's equally flattering reply. "And by _dancing!_ It's _so_ creative of him to think of that for getting through all those lasers."

"And _soooooo_ dreamy!" Their giggles faded down the walkway.

Opal caught her breath. The paintbrush lay forgotten in the bowl of green cordial. _Please no I haven't_

 _thought of Otto all_

 _day I can't_

 _do this please no I_

 _can't_

 _think no_

 _no nO NO NO NO_ —

"Ugh, those two are incredibly annoying together."

She snapped out of her reverie. "Ohuh?"

Oksana was now eyeing the doorway they'd walked past with the same look she'd been eyeing Opal with, only now more intensely. Frightening intensity. "All they do is talk about Otto and how cute he is. Not like they have anything _else_ to d—to, er, do...like actual jobs..."

"Of course. Incredibly annoying," Opal repeated, oblivious of Oksana's stutter, forcing herself to pick up the paintbrush and focus on her task at hand; no pun intended. Yet her brush strokes were more hurried, coarser, not with the dainty precision of before.

Her patient had noticed. Little did Opal realize just how much Oksana understood of her blooming interest in Otto. But all she said was, "What do you think of Otto, Dr. O?"

Opal pursed her lips, ironically (as it turned out) determined not to betray her thoughts. "Too silly for my taste. Can't seem to talk about anything other than food or dancing or Soundcheck or more food. Needs to be more serious."

"Good, you understand. Glad I'm not the only one who's _not_ a superficial bowhead in this precinct."

"He's still a good agent, though. Olive keeps him in check."

"Hmm. Yes, she does, doesn't she..."

Oksana trailed off and looked back up to the open doorway. Yet another silence fell. Opal finished the cordial right as Odell dropped off the missing ingredients, and before long she'd set to work on the rutabaga coating. The silence had relaxed her somewhat, and once again her painting was careful and precise.

That is, until Oksana decided to be the one to break the silence. "Do you fancy Otto? Is that it?"

Opal froze.

" _Do_ you?"

"I'm a doctor, not a lover," she blurted out, all but stabbing the paintbrush into the creamy puree. "Odd Squad agents don't have time for that sort of nonsense."

"Nonsense. Yes, obviously." Oksana didn't speak again after that.

An hour earlier than expected, the process was finished and the screams were gone. Without a word Oksana got up from the bed and marched out of the Medical Bay, before Opal could even give her the routine push down the chute into the ball pit below. She watched her patient go, dropping the used towelettes into her trashcan only by afterthought, unable to shake the feeling Oksana knew more about what she felt for Otto than she did herself.

And little did she know just how much her own emotional distress mirrored Oksana's own.

* * *

Christmas morning, 2014. One week before the Countdown Crook incident.

Opal had always been an early riser, and today was no exception. No matter how much she wished it might be. Sure, though she considered herself a Buddhist more than anything, she still understood the whole "true meaning of Christmas" well enough.

It just never seemed to find its way to her.

Her world had been full of struggles for as long as she could remember, since her very not-birth in 1990. During her Academy years and then that limbo period at Odd Squad, there were often months she was forced to choose between paying her tuition or paying the rent and bills. Not that Ms. O wouldn't've found a spot in the Pillow Room for her to spend each night, or that the Academy had dorms—albeit expensive ones—but it was a point of pride for Opal to maintain her own home. Plus the "All Kids Are Equal, All Kids Belong" promise only extended so far where finances were concerned. It was all too worth it to finally get that diploma and medical licence a full two years earlier than expected, but even holding worthy esteem (and a fatter paycheck) as a doctor couldn't get her everything.

It was just her luck the nearest Tube entrance was the same distance away from her tiny apartment as the nearest subway station: twelve and a half blocks. Technically she could ask the Tube Operators to open another entrance by her apartment building, but O'Brian had been on duty that day and a then-Agent Opal was quick to shirk from his threatening glare. So the alternative was a walk she did not enjoy making twice a day in all weather as a young girl on a congested city street, and though her faith taught suffering and material renouncement to be necessary parts of life...gosh, a bike sure would be nice. And up until a few years ago, it seemed the beautiful teal Schwinn in the shop window display might finally be hers.

But when dear Cousin Libby was diagnosed with leukemia in late 2010 and the immediate family couldn't pay the hospital bills, Opal didn't, _couldn't_ , hesitate to send a few hefty checks their way.

So now, as with every year around this time, surrounded by happy families and neighbors exchanging gifts and singing carols and sharing hot cocoa by warm fireplaces, she was forced to show some holiday spirit and hide her pointless desire for a bike that not even extra money from babysitting on her days off could buy. Just as the Second Noble Truth dictated, her material desire only brought suffering. And not even a day off from work would allow her to sleep in and avoid as much as possible the holiday that never seemed to apply to her. That only reminded her of such suffering.

Groggily, Opal threw on the slightly too-small gray housecoat Oscar had given her as a not-birthday present one year and climbed out of her lofted bed down to the kitchenette below. Never mind if she couldn't sleep the day away, there were things to do. She'd see if there was any more instant oatmeal in the cupboard and make herself a small breakfast, then check out what Santa had left under her meager little tree—though she never asked him for anything, he always seemed to insist on bringing her a few doctor-related trinkets to decorate her Medical Bay with. After that she'd catch up on her meditation, then call Libby to see how she was doing, and maybe tune in to a few holiday specials on the TV in the landlord's office if she felt _really_ bored. There was also the option of taking to the streets with her megaphone and giveaway toothbrushes to deliver her routine holiday health lectures, but that had gotten her in trouble on Halloween this year, so probably best to avoid doing so. Oscar might still be in town, she could always try taking the subway to his house for a brief visit—

Opal gasped and dropped the instant oatmeal box.

 _What_ _is_ _that?_

Utterly unaware of the mess she'd made on the wood floor, Opal brushed the tangled bedhead hair away from her face and took a few halting steps into the spartan living room, scarcely daring to believe what had caught her eye. Gingerly she approached the large, suspiciously-shaped tissue-wrapped package in the center of the room. Pulled off the tag stuck on the side to read it.

" **To:** Dr. O, duh! **From:** Not Santa, just two friends :)"

 _It can't be…_

But it was. Propelled into action by some untraceable gut instinct, Opal tore off tissue paper by the shreds. In awe she marveled at the glint of light on teal-painted steel, the sturdy tires firm with air, the crisply sleek little bell on the handlebars.

 _How...what...but who could've…?_

She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She wanted to jump up and down and dance for joy. Who cared where or who the bike came from? It was real, it was so definitely real, and Opal was absolutely ecstatic. This year, oh yes this year, something of the true meaning of Christmas had finally found its way to her home.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Otto was gleefully imagining her reaction as just that.


	7. (5) Anecdoche

**A/N *tries to think of a clever, witty Author's Note that'll make people laugh and convince them to read/review the chapter* ... ... ... *fails***

(5) Anecdoche

\ˈa-nik-ˌdōsh\ (noun) _A conversation in which everyone is talking, but nobody is listening_ _._

* * *

Even though she'd known he was coming, Opal still jumped in her seat when she heard that special _knock knock-knock knock knock_ on the door of the Medical Bay.

"Come in!" she called, straightening a few items on her desk before likewise straightening the stethoscope and badge chain around her neck, trying her hardest to visibly relax. It wasn't working.

The door slid open and in stepped Otto.

On reflex Opal immediately shot to her feet, and it took her a moment to force herself to sit back down again. "Close the door and pull up a chair," she managed stiffly, nodding at the waiting chairs over by the sick bed.

Otto did so, and as he sat facing her across the desk Ms. O-style, Opal noticed he seemed to be absentmindedly drumming his fingers on his thigh. _Good to know I'm not the only nervous one here,_ she thought.

"So," he began, meeting her eyes, an awkward smile creeping across his face. "How's your day been, Doctor?"

"Opal, remember?"

"Riiiiiight, Opal." He made a noise that sounded like either a throat-clearing or a short chuckle, she couldn't tell. "Take some getting used to, that one will."

"I know. No one calls me that anymore, and I'm glad they don't. I'm a doctor, not an agent."

"So you said yesterday, remember?"

 _Did I really say that already?_ Opal pressed her lips into a flat line, trying to recollect all the things she'd stammered out yesterday.

Yesterday.

April 19, 2015 was the day she should've seen coming, but didn't. The day Otto finally confronted her about her feelings for him and, what was more, admitted his own feelings for her. The day when almost exactly a full year of awkward interactions—from the repeated introductions on the day Olive caught the skips, to the day Ori ran off everywhere, to the Countdown Crook incident, and so on— had come to a head and spilled out into the open. The day where they finally understood each other for what was going on beneath the surface.

What _was_ going on beneath the surface, anyhow?

That was what, today on April 20, Opal intended to shed light on.

"Anyway," Otto was continuing on, "speaking of which, you said you wanted to meet with me about what happened yesterday. I'm guessing you don't mean the whole interrogation about Obfusco's missing moustache?"

Opal allowed a small smile at that. As far as trying to calm both of their nerves went, any little bit helped. "No, I definitely don't mean that. You know I mean our conversation from later that afternoon." She leaned forward. "And I've decided if we're going to start anything, we need to lay some ground rules."

Otto didn't react for a moment. Then, to her complete surprise, he threw back his head and laughed.

The doctor blinked. _Did I say something funny? I certainly didn't mean to. Doesn't any relationship need ground rules first and foremost?_

Turns out that was exactly what Otto found funny. "Sorry," he apologized, after taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. "It's just something so typical of you to wanna do, since you're a serious person." A tiny snort escaped his mouth and he looked away. "Guess I just needed a laugh. Can you tell I'm a little nervous about this whole idea?"

"Yes I can, and so am I," Opal assured him, feeling a little more reassured herself.

"Good to know," Otto grinned, in that roguish way of his that seemed to have every girl and a few of the boys on his heels these days. Including Opal, who felt her own heart do a somersault. "So, rules. Where do we start?"

"Rules. Right." Opal tried to recall her mental list of rules she'd spent the past umpteen waking hours writing down. Problem was, it was so much harder to recall stuff when the boy you liked was sitting there in the room with you. "First," she finally said, "no telling anyone about this, not even Ms. O or your partner. Not yet. I don't want to deal with rumors. I'm a doctor, not a tabloid face."

"Rule number one, don't tell anyone we like each other. Got it. Next?"

Opal noted his visible relief. Apparently he hadn't wanted that sort of attention either. Ironic, considering his _normal_ thirst for attention. "Second, we should establish how serious we want to be about this...er, attraction between us."

Otto exhaled and nodded, running a hand through his hair. "That's fair. Stay on the same page and whatnot." Glancing around furtively, he leaned forward and whispered, "Is stuff like this even _allowed_ at Odd Squad?"

That was an interesting question, for sure. Though Opal wasn't in the loop about Ms. O's breakup-induced relapses, or Oz's lemonade drinking problem, or Octavia softening Oren's jerkish attitude, or Olaf's burgeoning interest in Obfusco, or what happened to Orchid before she'd spied on them yesterday, or even Oksana's jealousy, what she _did_ know about (as did practically everyone else except Otto) was the tumultuous history between Olive and Oscar. If, all throughout the past fourteen years, Ms. O had never once stepped in to interfere with what was so obviously a drama worthy of a soap opera, then "stuff like this" _had_ to be allowed at Odd Squad. Or at least something everyone turned a blind eye to.

Right?

Problem was, the little red devil on her shoulder wouldn't shut up about how no matter what, romantic attraction of any kind _simply isn't done_ at Odd Squad. Romance did not belong in the realm of kids, end of discussion. And yet the little white angel on her other shoulder insisted that that didn't mean it _couldn't've_ happened before, because hey, look at Olive and Oscar.

Opal glanced down at her shoulders, and was once again relieved the squabbling angel and devil were invisible and inaudible to everyone else but her.

But being the experienced member of Odd Squad, Opal felt she had to give Otto a definite answer. "I...think I was going to mention this yesterday, before Orchid interrupted us," she began slowly, adjusting her stethoscope to silence the angel and devil. "Remember how I started to say 'I know we're kids, but—'?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"See, once you've been on the squad for long enough, there's...there's a part of you that becomes...well, not like a kid anymore. Like if you'd never joined Odd Squad and you grew up, that part of you is the part that grows up. Do you follow me?"

"Absolutely!"

Opal narrowed her eyes and raised an eyebrow.

"No, I'm not following," Otto admitted.

"Okay, so take me as an example. I was two years old when I started at the Academy, and I came here when I was six. Do you know how long ago that was?"

Otto shook his head.

"That was in 1996. I've been at this squad for almost _nineteen years_."

Opal watched Otto's reaction as what she said sank in. He blinked, his eyes widened, and he gasped. "How old are you, again?"

"Technically, I don't know exactly. Somewhere around ten or eleven, last I checked. But legally, I'm supposed to be about twenty-five years old."

" _Twenty fi—?_ " Otto's jaw dropped. "So...you were born in 1990?"

"Thereabouts. I don't have an actual birthday—it's a medical condition I was born with—but yes. Don't tell anyone about my not-birthday, though," she added, holding up a warning finger. "No rumors."

Otto managed to close his mouth. "Duly noted," he said, a little absently. Then his eyes widened again. "But wait, that makes you, like, fifteen whole years older than me!"

"Fourteen," she corrected. "You were born in 2004, so legally you turned eleven this year. Even though your non-aging plan makes it so you won't _really_ turn eleven until next year."

"How did you know…?"

"I'm a doctor, I have access to all your medical records." She shook her head. "But never mind, we're getting off topic. The point is, even though Odd Squad agents are all kids, there's a small part of us that eventually becomes like an adult." She held back a wince. Being a doctor, she was hardwired to answer questions directly, yet that was one of the most evasive answers she'd ever given.

Otto twisted his mouth into a thinking expression, and slowly nodded. "Okay. I sort of get where you're going with this, since relationships are an adult thing." The twisted mouth turned into a grimace. "But we're still kids. So relationships can't be _that_ okay."

"Probably not," she agreed. "And in any case, you're still more of a kid than I am, with the age gap."

"Yeeeeeeaaahhh, I really don't want to think about that."

"I don't blame you," she snorted, very unprofessionally. The whole idea was a tad creepy, if you thought about it for too long. "Which is why, for rule number two, I propose we remain cautious."

Otto rolled his eyes playfully. "You and your seriousness."

 _What's that supposed to mean?_ Opal bit her lip. "Is that a bad thing?"

"What? Oh no, no! I was joking, sorry."

"Oh. Good." She let out a breath, unaware that her hands had started fiddling with the badge chain. "Anyways, I'd like us to be cautious. We're on Odd Squad, which means we both have jobs, which means work is _always_ going to come first. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Doc—er, Opal, perfectly clear," he said with a wink. "'Cuz you're a doctor, not a lover."

"Exactly."

"So it sounds like you want us to take things slow," Otto reasoned, a thoughtful look in his dark eyes. "Maybe start as good friends and see where things go?"

Opal pulled her hands away from the chain and held them out palms-down, giving Otto a pointed look.

"Oh… Right." The thoughtful look turned sheepish, no doubt after reminding himself how he'd caressed her hands yesterday. "Okay, so a little more than _just_ good friends," he amended, glancing at his own hands.

"Yes, a little more than that. When we're not working."

"When we're not working." Otto agreed, the thoughtful look making its return. "I like that. If we're supposed to be kids and kids don't do this, taking things super slow should work. So that's rule number two. Is there a rule number three?"

"Of course there is!" Opal dropped her hands on the desk to emphasize her point. "Communication. Is. _Crucial_."

"Aha, gotcha," Otto said, pointing an approving finger at her. "Good one, Opal."

"Thank you." Opal leaned back a little bit, noticing she'd started to tense up again. "Already we're both off to a good start. We told each other about our feelings yesterday—"

"Only took me eight months," Otto muttered.

"Doesn't matter, it took me a whole year." She realized they were both smiling. "And today we've had an excellent discussion, as well. I don't want to lose our ability to communicate with each other, I know—" she stopped herself, realizing she was about to give away what she knew about Olive and Oscar. "Er, I can think of too many things that could go wrong if we're not communicating."

"Hah, me too. So rule number three, communication."

Opal nodded stiffly. "I think that should hold us for now. Should we adjourn?"

"Hold on." Otto held up a hand to stop her. "I have another rule I want to add. We need to spend some time taking each other out after work, whenever we can."

"As in on dates?"

He smirked. "If you wanna think of it like that, sure! But we can't always be serious, you know. There's a time and a place for having fun, too, and I want to make sure you know that."

Having fun. The concept seemed so foreign to work-minded Opal. But to her own amazement, she found herself mirroring his smirk. "What would this 'fun' entail?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." Otto stood up. "If any of our dates involve crossing bridges, I mean. Otherwise, we'll figure out what kind of fun we want as we go along. Sound good?"

Opal's smirk widened into a beaming grin. "Sounds good. This has been an excellent development, I'm glad we talked. Thank you, Doctor."

"And thank you, Doctor."

The two held each other's gaze for a moment, then burst out laughing.

An excellent development, indeed.

* * *

Later that day, while mentally debriefing her conversation with Otto in the small park in the Warehouse, Opal's smile still hadn't faded.

 _It's been a long time since I could smile on my own like this. I could get used to not being serious all the time._

 _...Well, okay, it'll take awhile. I'll probably be serious again by the time I come to work tomorrow. But for now, I'll enjoy my smile._

 _Good thing our conversation went well. Nothing terribly awkward or embarrassing happened, we agreed to each others' rules, we talked freely and confided in each other, and I even started gaining a sense of humor. Wait until Oscar hears about this!_

A moment later Opal shook her head. _No, I can't tell Oscar yet. For now, this is our little secret. Safe and secure between the two of us. Safe and secure._

 _Safety and security in Otto. So nice to finally have._

Little did Opal know just how swiftly the security she now felt would inevitably come crashing down around her…


	8. (6) Vemödalen

**A/N Sorry for not updating on Sept. 20th, my editor and I were both attacked by life and couldn't get this chapter ready for publishing. But here it is now! (Also, I hid a reference to _Portal 2_ in this chapter, see if you can spot it ;) )**

(6) Vemödalen

\ˈvā-mō-ˌdä-lən\ (noun) _The frustration of photographing something amazing when thousands of identical photos already exist._

* * *

"So..."

"So..."

Opal stared awkwardly down at her barely-touched veggie burger, then across the table at what little remained of Otto's everything-on-it flagship burger, large fries, and super-large Coke. "Do...you always eat this much? I mean—every meal, do you...always eat so much food?" _Oh gosh, that sounded so rude out loud…_

Luckily, Otto didn't seem to be offended. Swiping a finger through a stray drop of ketchup on his tray, he gave her a wink. "Only when I'm super hungry," he said, licking the ketchup off his finger. "Which is usually all the time."

"I see." There was a pause, and too late Opal realized she probably should've reacted to his joke somehow, but now things were awkward again. Forcing herself to take another nervous bite of her burger, she tried to think of something else to say.

Fortunately, Otto seemed to think it was his turn. "Not much of a soft drink fan, are you?" he quipped, nodding at the little white milk carton in the corner of her tray.

"I'm a doctor, not a junk food postergirl," she reminded him, swallowing her bite. "It's my responsibility to eat healthy so I can tell my patients to eat healthy."

"Of course," Otto concurred, eyes twinkling. Another brief silence, and then he said, "Y'know, Oscar once told me something about cow's milk."

"Oh?"

"He said that whoever first proved it was drinkable must've been very, very thirsty."

Opal thought that over for a moment. Then a chortling snort escaped out through her nose as she realized how funny it was. "Well, he's not wrong."

Otto grinned. "That's exactly what I told him, too."

Unfortunately that was when another awkward silence fell. It didn't take much longer after that before Opal realized she'd polished off her burger—and now had no excuse to stall while she thought of something to say. Desperately she glanced at her surroundings, but the Harvey's Diner outlet they'd both picked for their very first outing was rather empty at this time of night, and offered little help.

Her efforts weren't lost on her date, however. "Hey, Opal?"

She turned back to meet his eyes. "Yes, Otto?"

He reached across the table to stroke her hand. "This diner was a bad idea for a get-together, wasn't it?"

 _I don't believe it, he understands,_ she thought, exhaling with relief. "Yes, yes it was," she admitted with a sheepish smile. "I don't understand how grown-ups can go on restaurant dates and spend so much time talking about each other."

"It _is_ pretty boring, isn't it?"

"Definitely." They both laughed.

"I'll pick the next place, then," Otto decided, eyes twinkling again. "And trust me, it'll be _way_ more fun than any boring old restaurant..."

* * *

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! ! !" *gasp for breath* "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! ! !" *another gasp for breath* "WHAT IS HAPPENIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—!"

 _Screeeeech…!_

And just like that, it was over.

Otto, mouth frozen open in an expression of pure elated delight, hadn't noticed Opal's reaction in the slightest. "That. Was. AWESOME!" he finally managed, jittering in his seat with leftover excitement. " _Boom_ -loop-de-loop-a-lotta! What'd'ja think, Opal!"

Opal's mouth, meanwhile, was frozen open in an expression of sheer petrified terror, her knuckles death-white from gripping the lap bar too hard. "That," she finally managed, "was the worst five minutes of my life."

Otto threw back his head and laughed as the roller coaster cars slowed to a stop and the lap bars released. "Actually, it was only thirty seconds! I told you 'Outlaw Run' was one of the fastest wooden coasters on the continent!" he said, standing up to help his shell-shocked date to her feet. "Only seemed right for it to also be your first coaster!"

She shot him a stricken look. "Are...are all roller coasters like that one?"

The implications of what she was really trying to ask him sailed right over Otto's head. "No, not at all!" he replied, escorting her out towards the exit and back into the morning Missouri sunlight. "Some are smaller with sharper turns, others are super rickety and wobble a bunch when you get to the top, and the best ones are really tall and go even _faster!_ Of course, those ones are all made of steel instead of wood—oh, and then when it rains! Hoo boy— _that's_ when your in for a terrifyingly awesome treat..."

He trailed off, realizing for the first time how pale she was. "Opal? Are you...okay?"

The doctor didn't answer, worrying Otto. For the first time since he'd dragged her through the gates of Silver Dollar City at the park's opening, it occurred to him that maybe beating the crowds to the big roller coaster might not have been the best idea. "Look, I'm sorry for not warning you. I probably should've taken you on a smaller ride first, to get you used to this. And I should've paid attention when you told me you'd never been to an amusement park before."

Some of the color came back into her cheeks, and her frightened doe eyes snapped back into focus. She tried to smile and mostly failed. "Thanks, I appreciate you saying all that," she assured him, "although it might be awhile before I forgive you."

Otto laughed again, relieved she'd been able to attempt a joke (something she didn't even do that often while her normal self). Offering his arm, he let her take it and led her down the tree-lined path. "Good thing Silver Dollar City isn't all about the rides. I wouldn't call in sick to work on your day off to go to _any_ old amusement park, y'know! ...Well, okay, yes I would, but that's beside the point—and there's a lotta old shops and playactors and performances and the train and Marvel Cave, and you learn _loads_ of history about what the old frontier was like." His face lit up as he remembered. "Speaking of history, I gotta take you on 'Fire in the Hole!' It's the first electric ride in the park, and it's indoors, and it's got a lotta scary but cool scenes of how olden-days firefighters used to—"

"Is it another roller coaster?"

Otto hesitated. "Weeeeeelll..."

She frowned at him.

"...Okay fine, it is. But it's a really small one! And I promise it's slow!" he protested.

Her frown morphed into a tiny wry smile. "Alright. But no more rides after that. Now _WHAT'S next_ —after Fire in the Hole? Are there any playacting doctors?"

Otto smirked at the eager spark in her eyes, having already lost their fright from mere seconds before. Operation Bring-Fun-to-Opal may have gotten a bit of a rocky start, but with time it would win her over for sure. "Well, you never know with the Saloon Show..."

* * *

May and June flew by.

Opal fell into a pattern of weekly "get-togethers" with Otto. Usually on Saturday afternoons or evenings, one week he'd pick the place, the next she would, skipping only the week when Mariana Mag turned her into a Goat Plane (and even then, Otto looked after her during that time as best he could when he wasn't concerned with his partner). Never again did they repeat their mistake with Harvey's Diner; rather, Opal unknowingly found herself in a sense competing with Otto, to see who could come up with the most fun place to go or thing to do.

This being the weekend after Canada Day, it was Otto's turn to pick the location. And when Opal popped out from the tubes into the parking lot, she wasn't sure whether to laugh or roll her eyes at what it was.

"Subtle," she remarked to Otto as he emerged behind her.

"Yeah, well, we've been at this long enough that we're starting to run out of better options. Besides, not every arcade serves AMAZING pizza _and_ makes a promise to be someplace 'where a kid can be a kid!'" he said, breaking out into song on the last bit.

Opal decided to go with the eyeroll. "Are you still trying to make up for not taking me somewhere new and exciting two weeks ago?" she asked, starting their walk across the parking lot.

"Hey! Not my fault I assumed you were too serious to be a Menchie's regular!"

 _Like you assumed Olive was too serious to be a Club 24 regular?_ she thought, sensing a theme she prudently decided not to mention out loud. "I told you, I still appreciate you taking me somewhere I've been and quite enjoy. There's nothing wrong with that."

Otto raised an eyebrow. "Says the girl who picked a bumper car rink for last week's adventure, _and_ claimed she'd never ridden a bumper car before, yet plowed into Agent Owen without a moment's thought."

" _And_ who neither saw him at the time _nor_ knew he was also spending his night off there," Opal reminded him emphatically.

" _Touche._ " He started giggling. "That was still pretty funny, though. Wish I'd taken a video of the whole thing, it would've made a fantastic Oddstagram post."

Opal hid a smile with her well-known disapproving look. "You know why we can't do that, Otto. I don't want anyone finding out this—well, you and I. Orchid already knows, we don't need more people asking questions. Besides, social media takes all the fun out of living in the moment. I should know, I'm a doctor."

"Now hold on a minute," Otto cut in, holding out a hand to stop her suddenly. "Did you just say... _fun?_ "

"Of course. Hasn't that been the objective of our get-togethers?"

Without warning he pumped a fist in the air and let out a loud whoop. "Operation Bring-Fun-to-Opal is nearly complete!"

"Oper—" she stopped as the realization of what he meant sunk in, and she shook her head. "Fine. You win. I've been seduced by your silly, fun-loving ways."

"Not quite yet," he corrected, holding up a mock-patronizing finger. "First of all, you don't show any sign of your new fun side to hardly anyone else but me, so I wouldn't call it _complete_ seduction."

" _Touche,_ " Opal repeated, allowing her held-back smile to creep onto her face.

"Second of all, there's still one more step. In two weeks when it's my turn again, I'm gonna take you to the silliest form of entertainment that is and will ever be known to Kid-dom."

"Is it the Minions movie?"

Otto's finger dropped to his side and he stared at her. "How did you know?"

"Logical guess."

"Whatever." They both laughed. "Now c'mon, I've been suppressing my Chuck E. Cheese's urge for far too long. Bet I can win more tickets than you."

"Bet you won't," Opal retorted, somehow aware her eyes were twinkling. "You're on."

* * *

Hours later, the two strolled back across that same parking lot, Otto holding a rubber squid and a Shmumber-Choco bar, Opal with an expensive nerf gun and a giant teddy bear slung over either shoulder.

"I still don't think you won the bet," Otto huffed, licking the chocolate smears off his fingers and face. "Getting a free nerf gun for curing the manager's outbreak of polka-dot-itis doesn't prove anything."

"The teddy bear was 850 tickets," Opal countered, "which is exactly how many I had. Your candy bar and squid only came to a total of 30 tickets."

"But I _would've_ won more, if that one broken machine hadn't eaten all my tokens!"

"And _I_ would've won the Robot Princess ring toss if Odd Todd hadn't stolen my last ring."

Otto gave her a look. "You can be really insufferable, you know that?" Even before she opened her mouth, he quickly added, "Never mind, don't answer that because I can be, too."

Opal nodded approvingly. "Excellent, you're taking my prescribed communication rule to heart."

They both laughed again, blissfully unaware that their secret, budding relationship was in fact known by one Agent Olive, and that in a week and a half she'd be forced to out them after being outed herself with Oscar.

And utterly unaware how easily Otto would later forget the communication rule entirely.


	9. (7) Chrysalism

**A/N So I realized while writing this chapter that when I wrote "Ships Ahoy", I conveniently forgot Dr. O was trapped in the giant juicebox during "No Ifs, Ands, or Robots" (which is when the Prologue of SA takes place) thanks to Oscarbot 10. And as far as we know, she should have still been trapped there at the moment I had her show up to tell Olive and Oscar about her relationship with Otto...**

 **Sooooooooo whoops, continuity error!**

 **Anyhow, like the rest of you, I'm SUPER EXCITED about the new episodes coming out next week! Unfortunately Dr. O will now no longer be a canon character once they are released, which _kind of_ makes the rest of this fanfic irrelevant. But I've still got a great deal of her story to tell, so y'all just gotta remember it all takes place _BEFORE_ "Dr. O: Party Time, Excellent".**

(7) Chrysalism

\ˈkri-sə-ˌləs-zəm\ (noun) _The amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm._

* * *

When Oscar made the decision to stop by Dr. O's office just before lunchtime on that particular morning, he should've expected an immediate "Happy Anniversary, Oscar," from his old friend.

But being who he was, it still caught him completely off guard. "Wait, wha—oh! Oh yeah, that's today," he mused, grasping his lapels and flashing her a bright grin. "Thanks, Doctor!"

Standing up from her desk, the doctor gaped at him incredulously.

Too late Oscar realized his mistake. _Crumpets, that sounded really bad._ "Ohwaitwaitnonono, I mean, heh, I didn't _forget!_ " he hurriedly stammered. "What am I, crazy? I got her tickets to the next Bears volleyball game, and she got me a vintage yo-yo set, and we're taking each other out to eat at—"

"Slow down, Oscar!" she cut him off, holding out a hand to quiet him. "I didn't believe for a moment you would forget about August 4, I was only making sure."

"Ah, so you'd know that I didn't need Olive's help to remember," he said, catching on.

"No, I was making sure you got her a present, to see if you'd needed her to remind you about today or not."

Oscar blinked. "But...isn't that the same thing?"

Either Dr. O didn't hear or she preferred not to answer, but in any case she crossed in front of her desk, a file in hand, and was now rummaging around in her file cabinet. "How has your first year together been?" she asked after a moment, without turning to face him.

He took his usual seat on the metal chair by her desk and crossed his legs, a dreamy smile on his face. "Absolutely wonderful," he said, a highlights reel of happy memories playing in his mind's eye (courtesy of Reginald, the little man in his head, and his tiny slide projector). "I mean, to think it was only over a year ago things were tough between us, and now it's like we can't imagine ourselves without each other and wonder how things could've possibly gone bad in the first place, heh!"

"Have you been practicing your Cheese Wrestling lately?"

The sudden non sequitur of a question startled Oscar out of his reverie. "Huh? Um, yeah, this morning. A l-little, I mean. Why?"

Dr. O dropped in the file and shut the metal cabinet door. "Because I think there's still some traces of your last cheese fight lingering in your lab coat. Only those silly wrestling habits could've made you say something _that_ cheesy."

If that had come from anyone else Oscar would've laughed, but as it was he knew his former partner had once treated an odd disease very similar to what she'd just described. "Hehe, whoops. I'll be sure to wash it out this afternoon, thank you Doctor."

"And thank y—"

"Although speaking of silly," Oscar went on, abruptly remembering why he'd come in here in the first place, "you never told me how the Minions movie went." He leaned forward and waggled an eyebrow. "Has Otto's Operation-Bring-Fun-to-Opal achieved its final success?"

It was Dr. O's turn to look startled, though it quickly turned into a sigh as she sank back into her chair. "Only two weeks since your Oscarbot turned me into a juicebox, and already you're pumping Otto for information about us?"

 _Oh, Opal,_ he thought with a chuckle, _you have no idea._ The thing is, it was the exact opposite that was actually true. Ever since that afternoon two weeks back, Oscar couldn't seem to get a solid hour to himself in the lab, thanks to all the interruptions from one Agent Otto. Anytime the rookie had a free moment, he'd be standing in the way of some experiment or gadget repair with yet another pointless question to ask. " _Was the feud between you and Olive the reason she wouldn't let you come with us on the case where all the characters escaped their library books?" "When was the closest I ever came to finding out about you two before last Wednesday?" "Who else knows about you guys?" "Did you only volunteer to fight Odd Todd for the Flip-Floppernator because he made Olive a grownup?" "How many times did I leave you two alone together on cases and not realize you were, well, together?"_ And on and on he would go, until Oscar had to ask the closest nearby scientist to firmly escort Otto out of the lab. But once in awhile the Lab Director would glean a bit of information about how things were going with him and the doctor, at least from Otto's perspective. One of these things was the name of said operation. Otto had mentioned the movie being hilarious, and had alluded to other past "get-togethers". Oscar decided, however, that he wanted to hear the story from his longtime best friend.

"I would if that were possible, but I-I can barely get in a word of my own with all the information Otto's pumping out of _me!_ " he jokingly protested. "Besides, I'd rather be pumping _you_ for information, 'stead of picking up on some measly hint he drops here and there."

Dr. O rolled her eyes, but their shining twinkle gave away the rare adoration underneath her stoic facade. "To answer your question, I didn't think the Minions movie was quality film in the slightest."

Oscar felt his face fall slightly. Operation BFTO hadn't worked, after all? "Y-you didn't like it?"

"I didn't say that. I just didn't think the Minions movie was quality film." She lifted her chin and cracked a small smile. "That doesn't mean it wasn't funny."

 _Success!_ "So you liked it?"

"Yes. Well, mostly I liked the 60s pop culture references and stereotypes. But I _thoroughly_ enjoyed observing Otto watch it."

Oscar laughed out loud at the thought of his friend examining Otto's guffaws with a professional medical eye, but then there was Opal for you. Ever the doctor, even when they'd been Academy trainees and Investigation partners. At times like these, Oscar was glad for his chats with her, now fewer and farther between with their work—and _both_ their S.O.'s—taking up so much of their time. Always there to support him, through the highs of becoming a scientist and the lows of his misunderstanding with Olive, he still thought of her as a kind of older sister, and knew the feeling was mutual. _And yet,_ Oscar reflected, _once in awhile it'd be nice if we could actually have the time to_ —

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden movement from Dr. O. "Wait," she muttered, intently focused on something through the window. "Do you hear that?"

Oscar swiveled his head around and strained his ears. "Hear what?"

Dr. O let go of the file cabinet handle and took a careful step forward, not taking her eyes off the glass. "Could you do me a favor and go down to check on Olive and Otto? They're at their desks."

He squinted at the two partners, seemingly in conversation with Ms. O. "Um, sure. What for?"

"No time to explain, just go!"

Bemused, Oscar obediently hauled open the door and dashed out to the stairs.

Which was when he learned that Olive, Otto, Ms. O, and eventually more than a dozen other agents had contracted an odd disease that he and his first partner had been forcibly immunized with over a decade and a half ago. Which meant they were the only two agents who could find the cure. Which meant, in a sort of reversal of déjà vu, they were going back out into the field to track down Jimmy Jinx.

And thus, Oscar's wish for more time with his best friend had been granted.

* * *

But by the end of the day, he was beginning to wish it _hadn't_ been granted.

"I still can't believe they did that," Oscar grumbled, brushing a few stray Laser Chicken feathers and soot spots off the back hem of Dr. O's light turquoise lab coat. "I mean, when did I ever go out of _my_ way to torture Olive?"

"Do I even need to say it?"

Oscar sighed. "My promotion doesn't count, you _know_ that!"

"Yes, and that's why I was referring to the day our interview videos were filmed."

 _Oh…_ Catching her drift, Oscar recalled the day a boy nurse had come down from the Big Office to interview the squad's most prominent agents, as part of the promotional series from their Jackie win. The same day he'd prank-offered to take Olive on a date to a bakery with a sale on pies. Feeling an embarrassed fidget coming on, he stood up from his kneeling position and adjusted his glasses. "...Right, apart from that, heh."

"That's what I thought." Spinning Oscar around, Dr. O purposefully flicked a couple feathers off the back of his head and left shoulder. "But thank you for bringing up a good point. _I'm_ a doctor, not a prankster who has ever gone out of _my_ way to torture Otto."

Oscar shot her a glare.

Or at least, that's what he tried to do.

He really did.

But it was impossible for him to be angry at her, and his glare failed almost instantly as it collapsed into a burst of giggles. "Okay fine," he eventually managed, falling backward into a chair to catch his breath, "so Olive's gotten even with me, but you still gotta get even with Otto. Do I need to assist you with my super-incredibly-superior pranking skills?"

Dr. O smiled at him. "I've already decided to take him on the most boring get-together in all of Canada next weekend, when it's my turn to pick." Shrugging out of her sooty lab coat, she pulled out a fresh one from behind her back and tugged it on over her scrubs. "I figured a slow restaurant with mediocre food should do the trick."

"Ooh, diabolical, heh!" Oscar chortled, pulling out a Laundry-Transport-inator to zap the discarded coat and send it to the washing machines downstairs. _Good thing I invented that gadget the other day, right on time after a two-day lag,_ he thought, shrugging out of his own lab coat to do the same. "Perfect for a boy who loves food and hates grownup-style dates."

"Ahem."

"R-right, _get-togethers_. Sorry, hehe!" he corrected himself. But Oscar wasn't sure he was _really_ sorry. See, the past year with Olive had taught him a few things. Dates were what they were, anyone could see that—or at least, anyone who knew about the thing between Dr. O and Otto, which to Oscar's knowledge was only himself, Olive, and Ms. O. As funny as it was to see his old friend look away and pretend to busy herself organizing her desk just to disguise a tiny blush, it was high time she understand how _normal_ the idea of dating someone was. Well, maybe it wasn't exactly normal for kids, but credit went to Olive for looking up all the couples in classic literature who were under the age of twelve. Scout and Dill, Tom Sawyer and Becky, Lyra and Will, Dickon and Mary...the list went on and on. Ms. O had even said it herself to Otto in the warehouse a couple weeks ago: " _Oh, you don't even know the half of it. Just be thankful Odd Squad has never hired secretaries."_

"Y'know, as humiliating as it was," Dr. O went on thoughtfully, changing the subject, "I'd quite forgotten how ineffective you and I used to be at solving cases together. Today was a good reminder of that."

Oscar chuckled. "Come to think of it, I can't believe we _both_ thought we could work outside the office more." He leaned over and nudged her with a good-natured elbow. "Gives you new appreciation for being a doctor instead of a regular agent, eh?"

"Yes, because I'm a doctor, not a regular agent," she reminded him.

"But we _were_ regular agents for awhile. Long enough to botch up a bunch of cases, like uh...oh oh oh! Like the one with that woman allergic to kids and we brought her straight to HQ _where there are tons of kids?_ "

"Pfft!" went the doctor, betraying a glimpse of the merriment hiding below her surface. "Or the time when you zapped a kid with the Un-Crane-inator instead of the Un-Train-inator?"

Oscar half-winced at the hilarious yet cringey memory. "Or," he shot back, "like the case with the guy whose hair kept growing back into his head?"

 _That_ made Dr. O laugh out loud. "I didn't know we had a gadget for that!" she tried to protest. "I just thought he wasn't combing his hair enough! It was an odd medical condition I read about in that book The Secret Knowledge of Grownups!"

"And you didn't realize it was a fake odd disease in a fake book from a fake grownup?" he pretended to tut.

"We hadn't covered that in my training yet!"

On and on their so-called argument went, and by the end of day Oscar found himself feeling refreshed in a way he hadn't realized he'd been craving. Dr. O was even more right than she'd said aloud: today's reminder of how bad their old partnership had been was also a reminder of the good old days—back when Dr. O was just Opal, their social lives were simple, and their friendship was still budding. And even though nostalgia would never bring those good old days back, it was a blessed assurance to know the time, distance, and intervention of Olive and Otto (the latter of whom he had to thank for Dr. O's hilarious "sure isn't the left place" joke back at Baby Genius's place earlier today) had done nothing to change the Lab Director's bond with the Doctor. If anything, they had strengthened it.

Yes, as wonderful as it was to explore new horizons and share new adventures together with Olive, sometimes what Oscar really needed was to reconnect with his best friend.


	10. (8) Rubatosis

**A/N And now, the romantic fluff you've all been waiting for... ;)**

(8) Rubatosis

\ˌrü-bə-ˈtō-səs\ (noun) _The unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat._

* * *

In spite of what Oscar personally believed, Opal refused to think of her association with Agent Otto as "dating".

She talked it over with Olive one afternoon and, ironically, Olive not only understood Opal's point of view, but also _shared_ it. That is, she thought of her own relationship with Oscar the same way, as not exactly "dating".

Even more ironically, as Olive confided, Oscar may have taken the opposite view, but it seemed he could never bring himself to even refer to her as a "girlfriend". This made Opal smirk as she thought of all the possible G-rated synonyms that boy must have been racking his brains to come up with instead.

But that's how she saw her world throughout the remainder of 2015. After all, how could it be dating if they didn't even go on real, grownup-style dates? Opal couldn't be sure, but she figured that tie-dyeing old work shirts (Otto's idea), going paintballing (Opal's idea for the next week, to top Otto's), going laser-tagging (Otto's next idea to top _that_ , in which he surprised Opal by pushing her into a corner, caressing her chin with locked eyes, then shooting her in the chest and sauntering away before she could react), getting stuck on a bus in a two-and-a-half-hour traffic jam (Opal's painstakingly calculated revenge idea), mock-skydiving at an iFLY wind tunnel (Otto's attempt at reaching a truce between the two of them), _actually_ going skydiving in the Hall of Doors (Opal's retort that his last idea was kinda dumb when they had access to all of Odd Squad Headquarters), building forts in HQ after hours and having a paper airplane fight (Otto's subtle reminder that a) the point was to have fun and b) no he hadn't forgotten, thank you very much) and going to a Toronto Furies women's hockey tournament (Opal's idea that devolved into both of them reminding each other how bad they were at sports and Otto eating a ton of concession food) were _not_ outings that regular grown-up couples who went on dates did on a regular basis. No, to her it seemed awfully like the types of outings that really, really, _really_ close friends took each other on, as a casual get-together.

Thus, they were not going steady, just merely "getting together" from time to time. And that's how Opal liked it to stay.

Except.

Except inevitably, there had to come a day when one of them couldn't stand a couple of the ground rules' limitations any longer...

* * *

Well okay, back up. To be fair, Otto didn't start the day _intending_ to break the rules.

"Olive, you gotta help me!" he cried, frantically typing on his keyboard and clicking his computer mouse.

Bemused, Olive got up from her desk to see what had her partner all flustered on Christmas Eve, of all afternoons—a day when, for the previous two Christmas seasons they'd shared at Odd Squad, _he'd_ been the one telling _her_ to "stop and smell the candy canes," not the other way around. But as she took in the website displayed on Otto's monitor screen, she immediately understood. "Ohh," she chuckled. "You forgot to plan your guys's 'get-together' tonight, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't _forget_ ," he retorted defensively. "I just kept putting it off, that's a totally different thing! Plus I'm used to planning for a Saturday, not for a Thursday!"

It was true. Christmas Eve was on a Thursday this year, two days before what Otto was accustomed to. And with Olive's lavishly put-together bowling birthday having happened only a couple weeks before today, she could understand that his mind had been elsewhere when they weren't solving cases. "Alright partner, I don't blame you," she assured him, holding her hands up in a gesture of peace. "Now, lemme see what you've got here."

Leaning forward over his shoulder, Olive peered at the list items displayed in the article, aptly titled "50 Christmas Date Ideas" and aptly dated October 31 from earlier that year, right around the time the holiday season had begun. "Well, what about the first one?" she asked, pointing to it. "Taking her to see all the Christmas lights around town doesn't sound too bad."

Otto ran a hand through his hair. "I dunno, it just doesn't seem _special_ enough." At a disapproving look from his partner he hurriedly added, "And it's too cold to walk outside and I don't know how to drive. So that's a no."

Olive nodded, almost relieved he'd turned the idea down. If not, he might've asked _her_ to be their chauffeur, and she already had plans. "Okay, well what about number four?"

Otto made a face. "Formal symphonies are too grown-uppish. What about number five?"

It was Olive's turn to make a face. "I don't think Dr. O will go for the idea. She's loosened up around you for sure, but not enough to make up Christmas songs on the spot. _Especially_ if they sound like Soundcheck songs."

"I thought you liked Soundcheck now!"

"Not since you played it nonstop after my court trial last month!"

"Yeah, because my epic lawyering skills made Soundcheck the key to our winning defense case. Opal said herself she admired how well I handled it!"

"Only because I went to the concert in the first place, _which I now regret!_ "

For a split second the two pretended to glare at each other, but Otto broke the mock tension by cracking a grin. "You're right. Okay, so...we've already done the whole make-Christmas-cards-and-cookies-while-wrapping-presents thing, so eleven, eighteen, and I think it was twenty-nine are out. What about twelve, though?"

"Are you kidding?" Olive shuddered. "The mall will be PACKED tonight. You can't go in there, it'll be like a madhouse!"

"Good point. Maybe thirteen, then?"

"I already have plans with Oscar. Remember?"

"Riiiiiight, I couldn't _dare_ ask you to third wheel with _us_ for a change, could I?" Olive rolled her eyes as she caught his wink. "Oh well. Maybe we can all go caroling another year, then." Neither Olive nor Otto knew that another year with their special someones wouldn't come for them.

On they went, Olive rejecting a few here and there, Otto rejecting any that were either too grown-uppish or not fancy enough—or, in the case of the forty-sixth idea, because a skimpy Charlie Brown evergreen might trigger unhappy memories of past Christmases for Opal. When he got to the end of the list, Otto dejectedly began to scroll back up.

And that's when Olive heard him give a little gasp.

"Wait a second." He pointed at item number forty, his finger trembling with newfound excitement. "Snow ice cream. How did I miss that before? We just had a huge snow yesterday, too! Olive, doesn't the Odd Squad Freezer Room have an ice cream maker?"

Olive instantly realized where he was going with this, and bit her lip apprehensively. "Well, yes, but—"

"And didn't number thirty-one link to a recipe for dark chocolate cherry scones? Oh, oh, and number twenty-three was about surprising your significant other with a home-cooked Christmas dinner, and it even had a recipe for gnocchi alfredo! Olive, I've been meaning to try cooking that for _ages_ now!" he went on, swiveling around in his chair to look back up at her with glee. "Opal would _love_ that! And I get to cook!"

Chewing on her lip, Olive wasn't sure what to say. For one thing, Otto _had_ noticed twenty-three and thirty-one already, earlier dismissing them along with the other ideas that sounded too much like something a grown-up couple would do. For another thing, that was a lot of food to prepare without any plan in advance. And wasn't it rather cold for ice cream?

 _Ugh, stop being so premonitory,_ she chided herself. _We're Canadians for odd's sake, the cold never bothered us anyway. It's a cute idea, he'll have fun with it and so will Dr. O._ "Sounds good, partner!" she said aloud to Otto, folding her arms and putting a satisfied smile on her face. "Glad I could help you narrow things down."

 _And good thing the new agents Oriele and Orielle were put on duty with helping Santa this year,_ she added mentally with a glance at the lab, where the two elated rookies were hoisting large red sacks over their shoulders with the jolly old saint himself. _As much as I enjoyed riding in Santa's sleigh and delivering spaghetti bikes, I'll need all the time I can get for tonight._ A silly, embarrassed grin on her face at the thought of her date night with Oscar, Olive turned her thoughts back toward finishing up her paperwork and she redoubled her efforts.

* * *

 _BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP—!_

"No, no no no _no!_ " His heart pounding in dread, Otto dropped the malfunctioning ice cream maker in the snow and practically threw himself back inside his house, not even pausing to take off his boots at the front entrance as he hurtled through the hallway and slammed into the smoking kitchen oven. Heaving open the door, he coughed and spluttered as a thick, billowing cloud of blackness engulfed his face. Frantically he waved the smoke aside with one gloved hand and gingerly slid out the tray of dark chocolate cherry scones.

Or rather, what _should've_ been the scones.

"Can't believe I forgot to put these poor guys on parchment paper," he muttered, setting the tray on a flour-dusted wooden cutting board, its remnants of unused dough making for a stark contrast next to the piles of charred crisps that now joined them. "It'll take forever for my spatula to scrape them off—oh no, my spatula!"

The last exclamation came as Otto's eyes fell on the stovetop to discover that, in his haste to check on the ice cream machine out in the front yard, he'd accidentally left the spatula sitting in the skillet where he'd been making the alfredo sauce. As a result, its entire bottom half had melted, darkened and twisted into a bizarre disfigurement of its original self. Bits of melted plastic now floated in the creamy sauce, and as Otto lifted the ruined spatula out of the skillet (made of nonstick copper, thank goodness), it exposed the charred skin that had formed on the bottom and around the rim of the pan. Sickened, Otto set the spatula in the sink and turned off the burner, then tentatively lifted the lid off the pot sitting on the other burner behind it. Just as he'd feared, all the pieces of gnocchi he'd carefully rolled and cut had fused into a hardened glob of watery mashed potatoes.

 _All because an electric ice cream maker had a Gretchen nest in the generator and the swarm made the whole thing implode,_ he thought ruefully, wishing he hadn't impulsively tried to stir the ice cream himself and forget about his other dishes.

Otto wasn't sure how long he stood there, mourning the loss of his culinary masterpieces while desperately wishing he'd just opted to make his tried-and-true spaghetti and meatballs recipe, but next thing he knew the doorbell was ringing. So it was with black soot marks on his face and white flour covering his dark blue Christmas sweater that he greeted Opal on his front porch, held out the tray of ruined scones, and whimpered, "Please don't tell me you're hungry."

* * *

Snuggled under a warm woolen blanket with a bunny on her lap, a fire crackling heartily in the fireplace and her favorite holiday film _The Shop Around the Corner_ playing on the TV, Olive didn't notice her badge phone ringing.

Oscar wouldn't have noticed either, except the other bunny nestled between them perked up without warning and hopped to the floor, and all of a sudden he felt something vibrate against his side. "Hey, um, Olive?" he murmured, sitting up a little on the couch. "I think that's your phone."

"Hmm?" Her cuddling position disturbed, Olive reluctantly fished her badge out of her sweatpants pocket and flipped it open. "Go for Olive."

Curious, Oscar watched her face morph from drowsy confusion to startled pity and finally to begrudged annoyance. "Alright, I'll pick you up at the Red Cross in half an hour, _on the condition_ that I pick the music…. No, it's no problem, Oscar'll understand. Don't worry about it. ...Mm-hmm, yep. See you then." Snapping the phone shut, Olive sighed.

"Was that Otto?" Oscar asked, wondering what could be so urgent that he had to call her for help.

Olive leaned over him to get the remote and pause the movie. "Yeah. His dinner thing with Dr. O was a total bust," she explained. "All the food got ruined in some cooking disaster, so Dr. O came up with a backup idea. She and Otto grabbed dinner at a fast food place instead, then went to the grocery store and bought a bunch of canned goods to donate to the food pantry, and now they're on their way to the Red Cross drop-off near where Otto lives. Next they want to go on a driving tour of all the Christmas lights in the neighborhood."

Recognition dawned on Oscar. "Except they can't drive."

Olive nodded. "Otto's still too young, and Dr. O—you said she doesn't have access to a car?"

"Right, so she never bothered to get her license," he affirmed. "I mean, she's definitely been legally old enough since like 2006 or 7 or somewhere around there, a-a-and I kept telling her she should anyhow, although her not-birthday _might've_ made things a bit difficult—"

Smiling good-naturedly, Olive held up a hand. "That's okay, Oscar, you don't need to explain. I've had my full license for three years now, I'll take care of this." Gently pushing the remaining bunny off her lap, she wriggled out from under the blanket and stood up, tugging her winter coat over the dark pine green Christmas sweater Oscar had knitted for her the year before. "Meanwhile, you stay here and watch the fire. We don't want our _own_ Christmas catastrophe on our hands, do we?"

Oscar returned the smile, trying to be supportive but a bit enviously starting to wish Otto hadn't called. _C'mon Oscar, stop that. Otto's been the third wheel at several of our outings, it's only fair that Olive make it up to him._ "Alright. B-but don't forget about finishing our movie!" he reminded her, gesturing at the screen where Jimmy Stewart and Margaret Sullivan were frozen mid-argument at the cafe table.

Olive took his hand and squeezed it, blissfully unaware that time was running out for their relationship as they knew it. "Don't worry, I'll hurry back as soon as I can. I promise."

* * *

"I thought you said you'd pick us up in a Mercedes Limo."

Opal watched as Olive rolled her eyes and thudded her forehead against the steering wheel. "This _is_ a Mercedes Limo. What, were you expecting a grownup car?" she quipped.

Otto looked like he was going to say something back, but Opal squeezed his free hand to stop him. "Thank you for going out of your way to do this, Olive," she cut in, not wanting to spoil her first Christmas spent with friends and not on her own. "It is a kind gesture of goodwill that really means a lot to us."

Olive shrugged. "If anyone deserves a Merry Christmas, it's you and my partner." She nodded over her shoulder. "There's blankets in the back. It'll be a tight squeeze, so make yourselves comfortable."

Handing Otto the hot cocoa he'd bought for her on their walk past Polly's, Opal pulled open the back door of the tiny kid car and slid in as far as she could, bunching the blankets out of the way to make room for Otto. "It'll be like going on a sleigh ride!" he remarked to her as he squeezed in beside her and handed back her hot cocoa.

Opal sniffed disdainfully as she took the mug with one hand and helped him spread the blankets across their laps. "Just please don't make Olive play that infernal song on her radio. I swear I hear 'Sleigh Ride' every time I set foot outside my apartment."

From up front, Olive snorted. "No worries there," she replied, sharing the sentiment. Then she pressed the power button, and with a canned ignition sound the kid limo was off through the snow.

As it turned out, Olive amazed the pair with how well she knew the Scarborough area, in hailing from a different part of Toronto. Even at the little car's leisurely pace, it seemed that every street she took them to was filled with home light displays—some with full-scale blinking rainbows filling every inch of house and yard, others with just a simple wreath and light garland arranged adorably on a charming little bungalow, many with lit-up Nativity scenes, and a few with those creepy inflatable Santas and snowmen (which Opal particularly liked if the inflatables had been knocked over or were partially collapsed, it made them look even creepier). They ooh'ed and ahh'ed over each one, giggling at some of the more ridiculous ones. One house had plunked a full-size stuffed Grinch in its chimney and shined a spotlight on it, but the effect was kind of ruined since yesterday's snowfall had half-buried the Grinch, and all three kids laughed heartily at the sight. Though not normally one for Christmas music, Opal had to admit she enjoyed the Frank Sinatra tunes that Olive had decided to play from her OddPod, and she snuggled even closer to Otto for warmth as the rich voice crooned its way through "An Old Fashioned Christmas", "The First Noel", "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day", "Mistletoe and Holly", "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire"...she lost track. As the evening wore on, Opal felt herself settle into a kind of reverie. Idly she sipped the last of her hot cocoa and watched their breaths form clouds, billowing and dissipating in the still night air. Yesterday's fresh blanket of snow had become today's trampled playground, but now the piles on the front lawn and sides of the road seemed to hold an ethereal glow, basking under the brightly festive colors that chrysalized them in light. Even now, Frank Sinatra's words from the Christmas Waltz danced through her head and captured the scene perfectly: "It's that time of year / when the world falls in love..."

"Whoa, check out the park!"

Opal lifted her head and blinked.

The kid car slowed to a stop in front of the local town park. Covered in trampled snow and illuminated by harsh fluorescent outdoor lighting, the park had been very clearly hard-played that day. Its unimpressively-sized toboggan hill was thick with ruts, slick spots, and patches of mud left behind from kids of _all_ ages determined to get in some last-minute outdoor playtime before Christmas Day. A few teens and twenty-somethings were still there, laughing at inappropriate jokes while using black trash bags and half-soaked sheets of cardboard as makeshift sleds.

But neither Opal nor Otto saw any of that. What they saw was a golden opportunity. Otto caught Opal's eye and said, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

She matched his knowing grin. "We entertain ourselves with downhill snow-sliding on boards?"

"Yeah, sledding!" Otto agreed, his dark eyes bright.

This got Opal really excited. "Wow, that's an even better idea. Let's do it!"

In a split second they were out of the car and racing up the hill, shouting unintelligible words and kicking up snow as they went. Olive shook her head and chuckled. Her work done, she turned her Mercedes Limo around and drove back home to where Oscar was waiting for her.

* * *

At the top of the hill, Opal took a deep breath and steeled herself to break the awful news to Otto. "The Sledmaker Machine is broken."

His grin faltered. "Broken?"

"Apparently one of the new Security agents thought it actually _was_ a sled," she explained, pulling out another gadget from behind her back with a sigh. "So we'll have to settle for the Toboggan-inator."

The grin came back with a relieved laugh. "Works for me!" Taking the gadget from her outstretched hand, Otto fired at the ground and produced a crimson wooden toboggan, authentic down to the curled-over front end and the handheld blue leather cord. "Ladies first?" he asked, gesturing debonairly.

Opal felt her gut twinge in anticipation. It had been too long since the last time she'd gone sledding, and she hadn't the foggiest when _that_ was. Wordlessly she positioned herself down into the front of the toboggan and pulled the cord over her head so that Otto could reach.

Seconds later she felt his legs against hers as he scooted into place behind her and took hold of the cord. "Before we go, I have a confession to make."

Surprised, Opal swiveled her head around to shoot him a look. "What are you talking about?"

"That bike you got last Christmas? I had Oscar help me buy it for you."

She felt her eyes widen. "What—?"

 _Swoosh!_

The sudden movement caught her off guard. While she'd been distracted, Otto had taken the opportunity to push off, and now they were plummeting down the hill at breakneck speed. Well, not quite—the hill wasn't nearly steep enough for _that_ kind of momentum—but to roller coaster-sensitive Opal, it was her perfectly acceptable version of breakneck speed. She felt the wind rip screams of delight from their throats as they coasted down, down, down, clumps of snow flying up and nipping at her nose in Jack Frost fashion. The fluorescent outdoor lighting cast a shimmer on the rippled white blanket before them, and Opal thought it nothing short of truly magical.

And then the toboggan chose that moment to hit a tiny hidden snowbank.

Instantly Opal's world was turned upside down, literally, as with a frightening lurch in her stomach she was upended and flying freely through the air. Then, almost before she could grasp what was happening, she landed on the slope of the hill with a heavy _whumph_ and began tumbling downward, downward, downward. It wasn't until she reached the bottom and a heavy body crashed into hers that she came to an abrupt, painful stop.

Moments later, a hissing sound followed by a soft _thump_ signalled the late arrival of the lightweight toboggan.

In spite of her throbbing head and side, Opal felt a few titters bubble their way out. "Just like Buttercup and Westley, eh Otto?" She sat up and cast the toboggan to the side, waiting for his answer. "Otto?"

The answer didn't come. Alarmed, Opal looked down at Otto and saw he was wide-eyed and making soundless gasps, unable to breathe. Doctor instincts kicking in, she immediately knelt beside him and grabbed his lower legs. "It's okay, you just gotten the wind knocked out of you," she assured him, slipping easily into her distinguished business voice. "I need you to bend your legs so I can draw your knees up to your abdomen, this'll help your diaphragm relax. Now inhale _slowly_ and _deeply_ through your nose, and exhale through your mouth. That's it, now keep going. Don't try to talk yet until your breathing is back to normal."

Opal watched with concern as Otto followed her instructions, and soon enough his breathing returned in a rush, first rapid and panicky, then slower, until it regulated enough to where he could talk again. "Thanks," he gasped out in a thin voice, easing himself up into a cross-legged position. "Phew, that was—that was rough."

"Sure was," she agreed, her smile creeping its way back. "But fun."

"Yeah. Fun."

"Yeah."

Neither of them moved or spoke, and it occurred to Opal how close they were to each other—not 'close' like the squish-cuddling in Olive's car or the scooching together on the toboggan, 'close' in the way their faces were perfectly in line with each other, their eyes locked, her left hand clasped on his, her right hand resting protectively on his shoulder. The gentle winter breeze brushed a stray lock of hair across her jaw, and she noticed for the first time that the tumble down the hill had ripped out her doctor's bun and half ponytail. Now her dirty-blonde hair spilled out over her old brown winter parka in an unattractive mix of large swoops and weirdly-bent curls, fracturing her comfort zone of self-assurance. She became aware of her own heartbeat, pounding in her chest as if expecting something big, something new to happen, that Opal herself didn't know about yet. Feeling suddenly awkward and unprofessional, she looked away and felt her cheeks grow warm, wishing she had her badge chain or anything else to fiddle with, hoping some convenient bit of shadow might hide the pink color she knew was there from the fluorescent lighting, still magical but just a tad harsher now.

"Hey." She felt Otto slip one of his hands out from under hers and take hold of her chin, turning it so that she was facing him again. "I've never seen your hair down before, not up close." Gingerly he brushed his hand down her jawline and down the nearest swooping blonde lock. His smile was hesitant, nervous, and his eyes flitted down and back up again. "It looks—it makes—it, um—very beautiful."

Opal could scarcely believe her ears. No one had ever called her beautiful before, let alone her hair. But the stammer in his voice touched her, and the doctor did her best to meet his gaze. For the first time she found herself noticing, really noticing his eyes. They were the darkest hue of brown she could ever remember seeing, almost like ebony, yet somehow they held all the brightness of Antares and Betelgeuse. _So young_ , she couldn't help thinking, _so innocent._ Those eyes hadn't seen the horrors and strife hers had, and likely never would—a prediction that was to come true sooner than Opal knew.

Likewise, Otto seemed to have moved on to similar lines. "And your eyes...y'know, it's funny, but it's like they have two different browns in them." He moved his exploring hand back up to her chin and carefully tugged it forward for a better look. "Like, sometimes I look at them and they're the color of watery mud. Other times I look at them and they're like...like...like a spooked deer," he decided. "Like doe eyes."

"Is that a bad thing?" she asked, refraining from cocking her head so as not to disturb Otto's hand.

"No." The hand wandered again, back to caressing her face and hair. A shiver ran down her spine, and it wasn't from the cold. "It makes them unique, like—" He stopped himself as a flicker of epiphany crossed his face, and he smiled. "Like opals."

She matched the smile, no longer ashamed of the pink blossoms on her cheeks. "Is that a thing? Brown opals, I mean."

"Sure. Opals come in all colors of the rainbow. A brown opal is just as pretty and unique as any other color of opal. They're just as...well, opalescent."

"Opalescent?" She laughed. "There's no way that's a real word. You're making that up."

Otto laughed too. "Swear I'm not." He leaned in a little more, shrinking the distance even more, bringing them ever closer. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Y'know...there's another opal I know of that's just as opalescent. Know what it is?"

Opal's heart pounded harder. "I'm a doctor," she whispered back, "not an opal."

"Yes, you are." His soft words wrapped her in its own special cocoon of light. A light which outshone all the Christmas lights in the world. "You're always opalescent to me. My Opal."

On the last words, his lips were close enough to gently brush over her own. The tiny touch was the first of its kind to her, and the enormity of its newness threatened to sweep her away, and yet, yet, it didn't surprise her in the least.

All around them, dainty snowflakes began to fall.

* * *

Midnight. Christmas Eve gave way to Christmas Day. Somewhere overhead flew Santa's sleigh, its nine reindeer galloping across an airborne path only they knew how to find. All over the city, church bells tolled out their glad tidings of great joy, announcing the Good News to all who might hear. Snow fell thickly and silently, the fat flakes twirling lazily on their descent to the ground, where they joined their sisters at rest. Nestled amongst houses and highways and skyscrapers lay a snow-covered park, and nestled in the park lay a snow-covered hill, and nestled at its base lay two snow-angels. And in between the faceless sentinels stood two snowmen. One wore headphones, the other a stethoscope. Both had dark coal eyes, cute button mouths, and twig arms reaching out to hold each others' hands.

Leading away from the scene, two pairs of footprints ambled down to the street below. The only clue that someone, indeed two someones, had really been here, had built the snowmen and created the angels to stand guard. The only clue that the whole thing wasn't just a specter of the imagination, a Christmas dream.

A dream too good to be true.

 _Gone._

 _-CLICK-_

 **A/N Fun fact, the day I wrote the scene with Otto's dinner catastrophe, I was actually making eggs for breakfast, left the spatula in the skillet, forgot to turn the burner off, and long story short melted/destroyed my grandpa's favorite 30-year-old spatula. While I hated upsetting my poor grandpa, the silver lining is that it gave me an idea for this story, which is why Otto also destroys his spatula.**

 **Meanwhile, got a question for you readers: if I ever started a book of Odd Squad oneshots, mostly with scenes that tie into my "Ships Ahoy" canon, would you guys read them? And if so, should I publish these oneshots on FanFiction, Wattpad, or both?**


	11. (9) Occhiolism

(9) Occhiolism

\ˈōk-kē-ə-ˌli-zəm\ (noun) _The awareness of the smallness of your perspective._

* * *

Riley Winter...fired?

Opal rubbed her eyes and stared at her diamond-shaped tablet screen, convinced she'd read it wrong. It was less than an hour until the New Year, surely she'd had too much sparkling grape juice and it was clouding her senses, that was all. Pinching herself for clarity, she tuned out the bustle of Club 24 and read Riley's latest tweet again.

" _Readers: got let go 2 days b4 Xmas. No more TBD articles. Very sudden, too upset to tell u all sooner. Thx for all ur support. :'( "_

"Something wrong, Doctor?"

Stunned, Opal slid the tablet across the bar counter to where Olive was sitting. She watched as the other agent's jaw dropped. "But...isn't Riley Winter a really famous journalist?" she asked, sliding the tablet back. "Why would they let Riley go?"

Opal shook her head, still in shock. She'd only wanted to take a moment to check Twitter while Otto was off to the dance floor, not have her holiday evening ruined. "I don't know. I'm a doctor, not Riley's boss." Suddenly angry, Opal shut the tablet off and pounded her fist on the countertop. "Why? Why would they let Riley go?" she echoed, her voice choked. "All the other writers at TBD are too sensational, they don't understand quality journalism! _Why?!_ "

Olive didn't answer for a long minute. When she did, her face was filled with honest sympathy. "Hey. I'm sorry you lost your favorite journalist. But look on the bright side. Maybe now Riley Winter can get a new job at another magazine, one where they'll treat Riley better. And who wouldn't want someone who once won a Pulitzer Prize?"

Taking a deep breath to compose herself, Opal nodded. "I guess you're right. Thank you, Doctor."

"Anytime," Olive laughed, turning back to watch Otto challenge some poor upstart to a dance-off. Opal did too, and tried to focus on the excitement for the new year. But she couldn't get that tweet out of her mind. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling it was some sort of bad omen, a harbinger of worse to come.

Also, why hadn't Oscar shown up to join them at the club yet, like he'd promised?

* * *

The next day started like any other.

Opal arrived at headquarters just before nine in the morning and unlocked her Medical Bay door, stifling yawns as she set about opening up shop. One by one her nurses dropped by to clock in their hours, likewise stifling yawns after staying up all night before. Ms. O had yet to warm up to the idea of giving all her agents New Year's Day off, besides just sending everyone home early the night before.

Or so it seemed. There was another reason Ms. O hadn't canceled work today, but so far only one other agent knew the reason why, and it wasn't Opal. Yet.

After an hour or so of struggling to keep her eyes open, Opal finally got fed up with her sleepiness and got up from her desk, intending to head down to the lab. She'd heard Oscar had invented a Coffeenator a couple years back—a gadget that could make you feel more awake in place of that horrid grown-up drink—and with her head still reeling from last night's news of Riley Winter's unjust firing, Opal felt she could succumb to the temptation of an easy fix just this once.

In the lab she was disappointed to find Oscar still absent, but thankfully one of the scientists on duty helped her find the gadget she was looking for. But no sooner had she stepped out of the lab, freshly rejuvenated and ready to get back to work, than a puzzling sight stopped her in her tracks.

Frozen in place, Opal watched as a squeeing Olive actually _bounced_ down the stairs, corkscrew ponytail flopping up and down, the missing Oscar at her heels wearing a smile that looked a little too strained. As if that wasn't puzzling enough...was that a skirt she was wearing? Didn't Olive hate skirts? And where was her red necktie? Opal continued to watch uncomprehendingly as Oscar directed Olive across the bullpen and into the Break Room, where a wide array of drinks was waiting on the infinity table.

And then, understanding hit her like a wall of oatmeal.

 _She's getting promoted._

 _But not here. Somewhere else. Which means Otto…_

Another movement at the top of the stairs caught her eye, and she looked up. There was Otto coming down, alright, but who was that young boy behind him?

 _His new partner. Ms. O didn't waste any time, did she?_

Earlier preoccupations forgotten, Opal watched with a concerned eye as her significant other, a slight stoop in his shoulders and an obvious grimace on his face, led the newbie down the stairs and steered him toward the Tube Lobby. Though she was notoriously terrible at reading people, Otto was a blessedly open book to her, and this was no exception: he clearly didn't like the change.

The gears in her mind whirred at an alarming rate, terrorized into action by the force of impact from the metaphorical oatmeal wall. Feeling a growing unease in the pit of her stomach, Opal shot a glance back at the Break Room. Olive and Oscar were standing to the side of the table talking, Olive clutching a muddy glass and Oscar clutching his lapels. It was hard to tell from here, but Oscar's smile still appeared rather strained, whereas Olive had done an about-face from her earlier mood and now looked quiet.

 _Two possibilities,_ the doctor decided. _One, she's figured out the change will make things hard on her relationship with Oscar. Two, she's figured out it'll make things hard on both her closest friends, Oscar and Otto. Either way, this is really big. Bigger than Riley Winter's firing, bigger than anything we've ever seen before. And even though I'm a doctor, one thing I'm not is_ _prepared_ _._

Deep in her gut, the unease hardened into a thick, Gordian knot.

* * *

The day wore on.

Opal tried not to think about Otto or Olive's promotion or Oscar's strained smile, instead doing her best to focus on work. Her friends might need her, but right here and now her patients needed her more. She could wait to sort through and divine the meaning of her intangible thoughts and emotions later, when there weren't more tangible concerns like odd viruses and disease manifestations to concern herself with.

And yet, she couldn't help but notice Otto's by-and-large absence from headquarters.

Not Otto himself—he was in and out on cases all day, just like any agent normally was—more it was his _essence_ that was missing. Socially inept as she was, Opal might've missed it if she weren't so fine-tuned to his wavelength, but it was as if the brightness he brought to work every day had dimmed, somewhat. _It probably means nothing,_ she reasoned with herself. _He's got a new partner now, probably just busy showing the new guy all the ropes. There_ _is_ _a significant number of ropes in the Macramé Room, after all._ Not that things appeared to be working out with the new partner, though. The one time she caught a glance of Otto at his desk, he was clenching a fist and glaring at the sight of his bewildered partner in an activated water suit. And it took a lot to make Otto glare like that.

Just like it took Olive for his brightness to shine the way it should.

Well, his work-oriented brightness, at least. Opal knew _she_ brightened his essence in other, more intimate ways, just as he brightened hers. But the fact was, their intimacy meant nothing in the grand scheme of their work. Rule number one, no one was to know of their relationship, and rule number two, stay cautious because they're kids and because _work comes first._

Opal pondered this in the back of her mind, and was still pondering it near the end of the day while closing up the Medical Bay for the night. Will all that on her mind, she almost didn't notice the little pow-wow happening in Ms. O's office.

Almost.

Curious, Opal crept forward and watched as a blonde Robot Princess in a blue dress suddenly morphed into one Agent Oscar, who promptly took some weird wire contraption off his head and handed it to Ms. O with a grin. Examining it with a small smile, Ms. O said something and handed it back to him. Meanwhile, Olive and Otto— _standing next to each other_ , gosh had it only been yesterday they were still partners and this wasn't abnormal?—looked impressed, and Opal recognized the scheming gleam in Otto's eye. They exchanged a high-five, said a few things to Ms. O and Oscar, then turned around and started for the door.

For a moment, Opal almost scampered back into the safety of her office, before remembering she'd already locked it up and didn't have time to unlock it again. Grimacing, she instead stood still and braced herself to be called out for eavesdropping.

She was noticed, alright. "Oh, hey Doctor!" Otto called, sounding as chipper as ever.

Opal was puzzled. This chipperness didn't fit with the scenario she'd put together throughout the day. "Otto," she greeted with a wan smile, stepping forward to meet the two former partners at the top of the stairs. "Congratulations on your promotion, Olive. You two _both_ look as though you've been busy."

"Thank you!" Olive giggled. "And boy, _have_ we. Otto's got his work cut out for him with Agent Ohlm, doncha?" She elbowed him playfully. "Nothing my seasoned partner can't handle, though."

"Former partner," Opal corrected under her breath. Then aloud, "So what was the meeting about?"

Olive opened her mouth to reply, but Otto put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "Olive, you've had a long day. Go on home and get some rest, I'll fill her in. Besides," he winked, "I haven't gotten to see my girl all day."

It took all Opal's willpower not to let her hands drift up to fiddle with the badge chain. Embarrassed as she was, she didn't want a sign from her to interfere with her Otto time.

Cocking her head, Olive didn't quite meet his eyes. The giggle in her voice had disappeared. "Um, yeah sure. See you tomorrow," she said, setting off at a trot down the stairs.

Otto watched her go for a moment, then turned to Opal with a grin and took her by the arm. "Now then, shall we?"

Over the better part of an hour, the two of them strolled through the upper halls of headquarters while Otto filled her in on what had happened to him that day. How he'd run into Odd Todd via mail package...how the boy villain wanted to recruit him to the odd side to take a stab at Olive, disguised as a plea to keep her from leaving for Montréal...how he kept trying to tell Olive about Todd and failing because of her training, or because of a run-in with Ohlm...how he finally set up a meeting time at the Bears basketball game...how Ms. O had devised a plan out of the situation to get rid of Odd Todd once and for all…

"...And that's where you come in."

"Hm?" Opal blinked. "What do I come in?"

Otto chuckled. "Did you see the headband gadget Oscar invented?" At her nod, he continued. "See, tomorrow, before Olive leaves for Montréal, we're gonna get the whole squad together and use a bunch of those headbands to disguise ourselves as creatures. I'm gonna bring Todd here and make him think I've defected to oddness by releasing a bunch of creatures from aaaaaall over the Hall of Doors, but really it's gonna be all you guys. That's why Oscar's busy right now moving them all out of their rooms downstairs. And once Todd thinks I've gone too far, he'll hopefully realize he needs to escape—and, with a little bit of luck, never bother us again!"

Opal nodded thoughtfully. "I'm a doctor, not a wild creature." She met his eyes mischievously. "But do you think I could be a flying goldfish?"

"Hmmmmmm...absolutely!" They laughed. "So you like the plan?"

"It's risky, but it could work. Odd Todd's obviously underestimated you once again, so it shouldn't be hard to convince him you can't stand to lose Olive. He doesn't know about you and I, though, does he?"

"He shouldn't." Otto's grin faded a little. "I am gonna miss her, though. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for her and she deserves this, but...it'll be different, I guess."

They'd wandered back out onto the walkway by the Interrogation Room, and out of the corner of her eye Opal caught a movement in the darkened, empty bullpen below. Olive was standing in the South Control Room and slowly running a hand along one of its colored pipes, looking lost in thought. It was clear she needed time to say goodbye before heading home, so Opal didn't call Otto's attention to the sight. "Of course you'll miss her. You two were the best partner team I've ever seen at Odd Squad."

He stopped and met her eyes with his own, two tiny obsidian gems in the darkness. "You really think so?"

"I know so." She beamed and leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose. "Everyone here knows it."

Raising an eyebrow, Otto returned the gesture. "Yeah, well. Olive's right, I've got my work cut out for me with Ohlm if _we're_ gonna be the new best partner team."

Opal laughed softly. "I know you can do it. Hey, so you should get some rest before the big plan, too. Doctor's orders. See you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, my flying goldfish." And with one last cockish grin, he turned and jogged to the stairs.

She watched him go. Once he was through the doors to the Trophy Hall and out of sight, her contentment vanished.

 _He'll never admit it to anyone, not even himself, how much they need each other. More than he needs me. More than…_ Tears were threatening to prick at her eyelids. Opal barely noticed them. What she noticed was Olive, down below, making her way to her old desk to look at pictures on the computer.

 _This is my chance._

An idea had taken shape in her mind during her promenade with Otto, and now as she quietly crept down the stairs and over to where Olive was sitting, it solidified like a razor-sharp sword, readying itself to sever her gut's Gordian knot in half.

 _Odd Todd may have been right about one thing: Olive and Otto can't and should never be separated. It'll be better for us all._

Eyelids burning and brimming, Opal took a deep breath. "You two were a good team, you know."

 **A/N Apologies this was a little late (like less than an hour late, but still). Meanwhile, I'm surprised no one has yet asked who Riley Winter is and why I haven't named Riley's gender, though I'd love to hear your guesses. If anyone knows and leaves a review about it, I'll give you a shoutout :)**

 **Happy Halloween, everyone!**


	12. (10) Rückkehrunruhe

**A/N As we come to the end of Part 1, I have a few announcements to make. One is that I will now be going on hiatus with this story. I'm a college student, I've got life stuff to deal with, so I'm returning "Opalescent" to the backburner until I've got more time on my hands to write. This does not mean I'll end the story—in fact, I actually have more stuff fleshed out for the second half than I did for the first half** **—it just may be quite a wait.**

 **In the meantime, some thank-yous are in order for all you wonderful readers. On , thank you to Azz-rosez, Thunderheart0000, savagenoodle, Abigail, and Fictious33 for reviewing/favoriting/following. On Wattpad, thank you to DoctorForesight, AlphaKratt, BasilGrey, FreedomWriter58, bumbleboye, saras369, Writing_Warrior05, SapphireTheEvil, Amelia103Sherman, and UltimateNegaishipper for commenting/reviewing, as well as everyone else who voted or added this story to their libraries (whom I don't know who you are because Wattpad won't tell me :'( ). You all have been SO SUPPORTIVE of this project and I love you all so much!**

 **And of course, an ENORMOUS THANK YOU to Agent0002, who has been my amazing editor and recently began her well-deserved retirement from social media. I love you and miss you every day.** ❤

 **Now enjoy the chapter, and see you all again (hopefully) soon!**

* * *

(10) Rückkehrunruhe

\ˌrᵫ-kə-rün-ˈrü-hə\ (noun) _The feeling of returning home after an immersive trip only to find it fading rapidly from your awareness._

* * *

"...A-and that's why I think Otto should go with Olive."

Ms. O was quiet. Sipping at a post-breakfast grapefruit juicebox, she scrutinized the doctor carefully. Her eyes were dry and her posture erect, not what one might expect of a girl at risk of losing her significant other.

Yes, the boss knew about their discreet relationship. She also knew about the security footage she'd seen from last night of a huddled figure crouching on the floor in the Medical Bay after hours, quivering with choked sobs and clutching a diamond-shaped handkerchief. And she certainly knew her doctor had a stoic reputation to protect, which is why she wasn't planning to mention either the couple or the footage.

"Hmm..." she mused. "Well, you're right about Otto being a fast learner. He skipped the Academy and trained as a recruit for only a week before joining, you know. Few others in his position could've grown so much since then. _However,_ " she added, slamming the juicebox on her desk loud enough to make the doctor jump, "you expect me to transfer out _both_ of my best agents?"

Dr. O blinked, but otherwise her face didn't change. "You can always find two _new_ best agents," she countered. "Can't you?"

Ms. O opened her mouth to rebuke the doctor for talking back, but stopped. As a matter of fact, she _could_ get two new best agents. The timing actually couldn't have been more perfect. A few weeks ago she'd gotten a phonecall from the Academy about their brightest and most enthusiastic (a little too much for Director O's taste, it seemed to Ms. O) pupil in years, and wondered if Precinct 13579 might take her on. Well into the process of hiring Ohlm for Investigation and several new agents for Maintenance, Ms. O had declined at the time, but assured Director O that she'd be ready to take on a new recruit in about ninety days. After that she'd thought nothing of the phonecall until three days ago on December 30 when she received a coded message from a talented but desperate young boy, in which he begged for Odd Squad's help in letting him turn over a new leaf and leave behind his checkered past. Suddenly remembering the Academy phonecall, an idea had begun to form in Ms. O's mind. And now if she had Otto promoted alongside Olive…

Perfect timing, indeed.

"I'll think it over," Ms. O said curtly, but not unkindly. "Thank you for your concerns, Doctor. Now go on back to work, there's a lot to do before Odd Todd gets here."

Dr. O nodded. "Of course, because I'm a doctor." With that, she swiveled on her heel and left.

Ms. O watched her go.

It was funny how, when she least expected it, she could learn so many things about the integrity of two employees from such a brief, unassuming conversation. If Otto was willing, albeit grudgingly, to put up with Ohlm if it meant the promotion and success of his true partner Olive, he was far more deeply humble than he came across. And if Dr. O was willing to give up her own desires for the wellbeing of two other agents, her stolid yet quirky nature hid a big, selfless, abnegating heart. But most importantly, this proved that no matter what was between them, Dr. O and Otto never failed to put the needs of Odd Squad and its agents first and foremost.

It... _touched_ Ms. O, to wonder at it. Especially since it had nearly killed her to take her own O'Donahue and boot him down to third place, after her career and the wellbeing of her precinct's agents.

 _Well, if anyone were willing to give up their loved one for the greater good like that_ , she reasoned as she placed the call to the Academy and asked to hire Olympia, effective immediately, _it would have to be our very own Doctor. And I envy her for making a hard decision so easily._

But neither Ms. O nor Dr. O knew what the consequences of this decision were destined to become.

* * *

 _Okay, so run through this one more time. I show up at Odd Todd's door, act like I'm reluctant to join him yet out of options, and deep down desperate to keep Olive. So long as Todd has underestimated me again, it should be easy to believe. Now, I don't know what to expect once I'm there, so I gotta act confused and just a tad bit clueless—okay maybe more than just a tad, he'll like that and believe it more. Somehow I'll have to go off what he says and figure out a way to suggest opening all the doors in HQ and getting him to agree with the idea. Above all, improvise._ He cracked a smile at the thought. _Like that'll be hard. Improv and comedy go hand in hand, and everyone already knows I've got comedy nailed._ He took a deep breath. _Okay, guess that's it. After that it's up to everyone in headquarters. Time to head out and set our plan in motion—_

"Otto, wait!"

Halfway through the Tube Lobby doors, Otto stopped and whirled around.

 _Opal?_

He watched as the doctor zoomed into the Trophy Room and skidded to a halt in front of him, bracing her hands on her knees as she panted for breath. Startled, he tried to remember the last time he'd seen Opal run like that, as if a Taggle had sunk its teeth into her lab coat. When his memory could only draw a blank, Otto began to wonder what on earth could've happened to her. What could possibly be so important that she needed to interrupt their crucial mission? Was it a sudden odd outbreak, or had Odd Todd somehow found out about their plans, or—or had something happened to hurt her?

It was none of the above. "Otto," she gasped, still getting her breath back. "It's me, Dr. O, except I let you call me Opal since we're so close. We go out on Saturdays, your partner and my best friend are a couple—"

"Opal, I know!" he cut her off, by now accustomed to her quirky but endearing way of introducing herself. "We've literally been going steady since April. Now what is it, is something wrong?"

"Yes. I mean no, no! I mean…" She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. "Look, before you go, there's...there's something I have to tell you."

Otto furrowed his eyebrows. Something in her tone of voice… He couldn't quite put a finger on it, but it almost sounded a little sad. "What is it?" he asked warily.

Opal stood up and shuffled her feet a bit, not quite meeting his eyes. "I, uh, forgot to tell you yesterday, with—y'know, all the excitement over Olive's promotion and this huge plan of yours, but, uh...well…" She suddenly looked directly into his eyes and blurted out, "I'm going on a long-term trip."

"A what?"

"A trip," she repeated tersely. "Yes, a trip. A really long one. Like a sabbatical, if you will. It's very last-minute, but the Big Office needed a doctor and so they picked me. I gotta head out after this mission is done with."

 _A sabbatical?_ His eyebrows unfurrowed and shot up. _Opal...leaving? First Olive, now Opal? All in one day?_ Otto was at a loss. "But...why?"

Opal didn't answer for a bit, but after a few moments she gave him a stiff, awkward shrug. "Important medical business. I'm a doctor, it's what I do."

Brow refurrowing, he narrowed his eyes. The whole thing didn't add up. What kind of emergency sabbatical could the Big Office possibly want Opal for? Did Ms. O know about this? But the look in her helpless doe eyes told him not to pry for details. Besides, he was just now realizing a bigger elephant in the room here. "Okay. So you're leaving. Do you know for how long?"

She shook her head.

"You don't think it'll be permanent, do you?"

She looked away and shrugged. "I hope not."

"But it'll still be a long time."

She nodded.

"Opal..." Otto sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Do you realize what this means for us?"

Biting her lip, she nodded. "No more Saturday nights," she murmured, her way of acknowledging the relationship they'd created over the past several months.

The past several months. It had been that long already?

"I could come back and visit sometimes, though."

He looked at her sharply. "You can do that?"

"I think so. I don't see why not." She tried a smile. "Hopefully, anyways. So we could…?"

She trailed off, but he saw where she was going. "Do the long-distance thing?" he finished.

"Yes. I mean, if you think it'll work, that is."

"I..." Otto couldn't answer right away. Truth be told, the answer that came to mind was the worst possible one he could give to her. _What's the point? I mean, how could you up and leave me like that? I'm already practically losing my older sister, now you too? Who's next, Oscar? How many "long-distance things" do I have to juggle?_ But this was Opal. Selfless Opal, who never asked for anything she could live without; who took pride in the seedy, dilapidated apartment she called home; who refused charity if she could get by on her own. If she had to leave now, it couldn't be helped. And he knew all too well how good she was at hiding her emotions. For all he knew, she had probably taken the news far worse when she found out.

 _And what would I do if I were in her boat?_ he wondered. _If I got a last-minute promotion or research sabbatical and had to leave Opal behind, I'd want her to let us try the long-distance thing, too._

 _Wouldn't I?_

Communication. Honest communication was crucial. Rule number three. Otto resisted the urge to ruffle his hair a second time and tried again. "I… I'll be honest, I dunno how well I'd do with long-distance. I mean, already I gotta deal with Olive leaving, and uh..." he tried to chuckle and it came out strained, "well, I mean you kinda blindsided me here, Opal."

"I know," she said, a bit fretfully. "I'm sorry. I wish it didn't have to happen, but it's—I mean, it's for the best. Anyhow, it's not exactly an opportunity you could—er, _I_ could pass up. I wouldn't, er, want _you_ to, y'know."

"And I don't want _you_ to, either," he agreed, reaching out to stroke her cheek. "Part of rule number two is that work comes first, remember?"

She smiled ruefully. "Yes, I remember. So...does that mean yes?"

Otto glanced behind him at the soft blue light of the Tube Lobby. He was still caught standing in the automatic doorway, one foot in headquarters with Opal and another in the way out to the world, and Odd Todd's expectant lair. _I should really get going,_ he thought, more than a little unwilling to move. "Look," he sighed, "of course I would do that for you. I've never done anything long-distance before and I can't make any promises while I've got Ohlm to deal with, but yes, I want to try and I want this to work out between us. We'll talk about it some more when Todd's been dealt with, though, alright?"

There was something peculiar in her expression he couldn't make out. But before he could wonder at it too much, a familiar raspy voice interrupted his ponderings. "Otto, you coming?" O'Malley hollered from the Tube Operator console.

"Yeah, yeah, just a moment!" he called back over his shoulder. Then softly to Opal, "Listen, I gotta get going. Olive can't start her first day in her new job until this mission is over. And now, neither can you." Leaning in, he pecked her on the cheek and turned to go. "We'll talk later, alright?"

Opal didn't seem to answer. Otto couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard her mumble "I wish we could" under her breath. But as he got squishinated and bounced into the tubes and wondered what on earth that could mean, he found himself dwelling on that last little thing he'd added as he left her: "And now, neither can you."

Olive was leaving him.

And now Opal was, too.

For the first time in his life, Otto wondered if this was what it felt like to be lonely.

 _Blindsided. I've totally been blindsided._

So it was with a genuinely heavy heart that Otto popped out of the tubes at 30 Main Street and approached the door to Odd Todd's evil lair, if—as it would turn out—for all the wrong reasons.

* * *

 _Zzzap!_

One final gadget fired and the last dinosaur, Robot Princess, and flying book disappeared. A split second of silence settled across headquarters. Opal stood her ground a moment longer, then collapsed against the wall as all the adrenaline left her.

She felt...surprisingly, pretty good.

 _Guess I had a lot to get out of my system,_ she mused briefly. A little dazed, her eyes wandering, it took a moment before she really started to comprehend the sight in front of her.

The bullpen was a _mess_. Desks were overturned and their contents scattered everywhere...random bits of paper floated almost ethereally through the air...balls from the ball pit bounced and rolled merrily across the floor in every which way...blast marks from various gadgets left sooty stains on the cement floor and iron support beams...the climbing wall in front of the lab lay destroyed in a sad pile of shredded wood and plastic...the light fixture above the east entrance hung lopsided, suspended by a single remaining wire and flickering sadly...even crumbling cinder blocks from the building's very foundations had broken free and were now strewn about the area with the other bits of rubble. Opal shuddered at the sight and stepped forward to begin helping with the long clean-up, when she remembered—

 _Oh._

 _Oh, crumpets._

Forgetting the aftermath before her, Opal broke into a worried sprint ( _my second today, quite an exercise for a doctor_ ) and in no time was up the stairs and in the doorway of her precious Medical Bay...and breathed a sigh of relief. _Could've been worse,_ she thought, surveying the hundreds of apples that covered every possible flat surface in the little room. _An apple attack from an escaped Fruithaha Fairy can't keep_ _this_ _doctor away!_ Knowing Ms. O would appreciate the ample addition to her Juice Bar's extra reserves, she fished out a Basketinator from behind her back and zapped several baskets into existence, then set to work converting her apple orchard back into a Medical Bay.

And then, as she began dragging out the first full basket towards Ms. O's office, her sharp ears caught the anxious sound of a familiar voice. "Olive, what are you still doing here? You're gonna miss your first day!"

She stopped cold. It was coming. The moment she dreaded was coming. Scheming to get rid of Odd Todd, fighting off odd creatures and getting them contained once more, cleaning up the place in the aftermath...all that had only kept her busy, kept her mind off...off of…

"Um, a-about that…" came the halting reply. "Here, walk with me."

So Olive had agreed to the idea. In spite of herself, Opal couldn't help feeling a little relieved. Her pretend cover story about taking an indefinite sabbatical had paid off: if he believed she too was leaving the precinct, Otto could accept his promotion without worrying about hurting their relationship. All the same, Opal knew she needed to hear what was coming next, so she pushed aside the apple basket and discreetly hurried down the stairs to follow them.

"I...know—we've been working together for a…w-while, and… _I'm not taking the job._ "

There it was. Opal didn't wait to hear Otto's reaction—she had a pretty good idea of how disbelieving he was probably about to be—but rather dashed into the back hallway and around to the far Trophy Room entrance, the one that led directly to the Tube Lobby. Keeping out of sight a little ways back, she saw/heard the two walk out between the doorways as Olive cut off whatever Otto was saying: "I _said_ I'm not taking it—"

Penny in the air.

"—unless you come with me."

Penny drops.

The shockwave of what she'd just said had barely crossed Otto's face when the Tube Lobby doors slid open and Olive was ushering him inside. "What is going on h—"

Opal heard a gadget zap.

Imagining all too well the purple suit that was now taking form, she watched as Ms. O, finally able to slip away from directing agents to where and what needed cleaning up, strode out of the Trophy Room and caught her eye in the hallway. Opal held a finger up to her lips, but she needn't have worried. With a pitying smile, Ms. O nodded at her once, then turned and made her way into the Tube Lobby. "Whaddya say, Otto? You up for the job?"

As the doors began to slide shut, the doctor scooted forward and wedged the tip of her shoe in between them, stifling a cry as the multi-ton doors nearly mashed her toes to a pulp. _Ignore it for now, better to focus on physical pain than emotional pain,_ she reminded herself. _I'm a doctor, I can treat my foot later, but this can't wait._ Peeking through the crack, she watched the events unfold.

The first part didn't concern her all that much, although it was priceless to watch. The look of horror on not just Otto's face, but on Olive's and Oscar's faces as well, as he asked, "Wait. Does this mean we have to be married?" almost made her blow her cover, but Opal managed to keep a straight face. _Funny, I wouldn't've felt the_ _need_ _to keep a straight face this time last year,_ she thought offhandedly.

But it was the next part where Otto proved, once again, how he put the needs of others before his own. "But what about Ohlm?" he asked, looking back and forth between Olive and Ms. O. "What about—?"

And that's when his eyes locked on hers.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Opal's thoughts registered Ms. O's voice saying something about Ohlm getting repartnered with Orchid, and that same part of her mind wondered how upset Orchid would be at the change. Yet in those few moments, none of that mattered. She felt petrified, rooted to the spot, fixed in time and space. All she saw were the two ebony orbs inlaid in the warm mocha face of the boy who had held her captive for nearly two years now. And it was clear that all he saw were the two brown opals inlaid in her own cold ivory face, thawed by months in his radiance. Her lips tingled a bit as her mind flashed back to the Christmas Eve night only the week before, when they'd shared their first and only true kiss.

His dark eyes held a question. Hers held the answer. Slowly she blinked them shut and nodded once. _This is what I was trying to prepare you for,_ she whispered to him mentally. _Go with Olive. You're ready for this. We'll find a way to make time for each other._

Otto looked at her a moment longer, and she knew he understood it all. The made-up sabbatical excuse, the permission she was now granting him, the hope for his future, everything. Gratefully he gave her a tiny, crooked sort of half smile. Then he broke eye contact and looked at Ms. O. "I accept the job," he said without hesitancy, reaching out to shake his now-former boss's hand.

There was nothing more for her to see here. Shaking a little, Opal withdrew her foot from between the doors and let them slide shut all the way. With that she turned and began to make her way back to her Medical Bay.

But not alone. As she dazedly stumbled out into the bullpen, oblivious to the dramatic makeover happening all around her, the doctor caught the attention of a certain head nurse. "Hey, Dr. O!" Agent Odell hollered, rushing over to catch up with her at the foot of the stairs, still clutching the large wooden club of a caveman he'd fought off earlier. "Doctor, are you alright?"

She looked at him and gave him a curt nod, but on the inside she was scrambling to find her composure. Where had it gone? Why was she so calm and unseeing on the outside but collapsing on the inside? And what was so funny all of a sudden? "I'm fine, thank you, Doctor," she said, a little snicker in her voice on the last word. "Heh, doctor."

Odell was eyeing her weirdly. "Um, are you sure? That was a pretty crazy fight, and you look a little worn out."

For some reason that made her want to snicker even more. _Deep breath, Opal. Deep breath._ "Thank you for your concern, Odell, but I am doing just fine." She grinned. "Of course I'm fine, I'm a doctor, haha!" And with that she dashed up the stairs, leaving behind a rather baffled head nurse.

Once inside she quickly shut the Medical Bay door and pressed her back against it, then burst out laughing. It didn't occur to her why she shouldn't be laughing for a good minute or so, until suddenly she felt something drip off her chin. As instantaneously as switching off a water faucet, the laughter died on her lips. Opal brought a hand up to touch her cheeks. Blankly she stared at the warm droplets on her fingertips.

 _I'm not okay_ , she remembered. _I just lost Otto and I'm not okay._

 _But why am I laughing if all is not right with the world?_

 _With the world…wi' the world...th' world...world...wor…_

… … …

— _aLL iS rIGHt—aLL iS—aLL—_

 _ALL IS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD?!_

Gasp!

"...I'm done for."


End file.
